


Evolution

by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, First Time, Five Year Mission, M/M, Plot, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 149,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhaegalKS/pseuds/Rhaegal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his first year in command of the USS Enterprise James T. Kirk must gel his new team together, adapt to his abrupt change in status over his friends, and deal with falling for his first officer. And, of course, there's always someone out to threaten the galaxy.</p><p>Note: Beta-read by the wonderful waketosleep. This was written in 2009-2010, and thus pre-dates Into Darkness. It was only pointed out to me recently that I neglected to upload it here for some reason. Also, since writing this I have spent two years living in the US so I have taken the opportunity to correct some of the lingering Britishisms. Please feel free to prod if you spot any leftovers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless plug! On September 15th-17th KiScon, the Kirk/Spock convention, is taking place in Los Angeles. This year I am co-chairing along with Amanda Warrington for the third time, specifically to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the first airing of Amok Time. If you like K/S, it is a really fun convention that I highly recommend attending. You can find more details at [kiscon.org](https://www.kiscon.org).

"Ready to drop out of warp in fifteen minutes, Captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu."

Kirk lifted his head, shoulders back, and felt in control. Or so he insisted to himself, stubbornly denying the gnawing feeling in his gut.

In the week since leaving Earth, he had learned one valuable lesson: space was _big_. They had been traveling at warp speed for days, the stars streaking by and not another living soul in sight.

They had taught him all about the physical size of it in the Academy, of course; he knew that the Galaxy was about twenty-five kiloparsecs across, which was the length of the old Route 66 about 2 x 1014 times over. He'd worked that out once, doodled in the margin of his notebook in class, but he still hadn't really comprehended it. Because every time it was impressed on him just how monumentally _vast_ space was, all he heard was the potential for new planets to explore, new life and civilizations to find. And while that was true, he had never really grasped that in between lay vast expanses of emptiness.

Captain James T. Kirk did not like waiting. His first week in command of the _Enterprise_ \- officially, that is – and all he'd had to do so far was watch and wait for action. In action, he could prove himself, prove that he belonged there. He felt a fool sitting around doing nothing.

Unable to stand it any longer, Kirk jumped to his feet. Chekov and Sulu looked up, startled by the sudden movement. Kirk ignored them, focused on trying to look as though he knew what he was doing, and turned to Spock. The Vulcan was engrossed in the scanner…doing what, Kirk had yet to figure out. Something sciencey, no doubt.

"I was thinking I might go and read up on the mission brief?" he said.

Spock looked up, and raised one of his slanted eyebrows in an expression that somehow managed to make Kirk feel that he was three inches tall. He realized too late that he had phrased his words as a question, and mentally kicked himself; as Captain, there was no need for him to excuse himself.

"Mr. Spock, Chekov, Briefing Room 2 in twenty minutes," he added, trying to appear authoritative. "And have Dr. McCoy join us. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

Kirk spun on his heel in what he hoped was a decisive manner and departed without a backward glance. Or that was the intention; in fact, as he waited for the turbolift doors to open, his head seemed to turn of its own volition towards the Vulcan bending over the scanner. He was struck by a sudden, inexplicable feeling of surprise, as though he expected to see Spock following him.

Blocking this ridiculous notion from his head as best he could, Kirk pressed the button for Deck 6 and held his posture ramrod-straight until the doors of the turbolift closed behind him; only then did he allow his shoulders to drop.

Unbidden, a memory flashed before his eyes, of himself and Spock in an underground tunnel, afraid, hunted – or was that hunting? He couldn't be sure. Only it couldn't be a memory, because Kirk had never seen that tunnel before. Besides, he shouldn't be able to see himself in his own memories. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, as though that would somehow dislodge the unwelcome image.

The moment the doors opened, he was once again Captain Kirk, he of the arrogant swagger and self-assured smile. As he strode towards the briefing room, he couldn't help but notice the way crewmembers he didn't even recognize would stand aside for him, or greet him with a respectful nod. He tried to acknowledge each of them brusquely but politely, and was relieved when he reached the solitude of the briefing room.

"Computer," he said, "replay mission brief."

It was unnecessary, since he'd heard it once before and his plan was already formed, but pacing the room and listening without having to think was precisely what he needed to clear his head.

By the time the replay had finished, Kirk was entirely focused and excited about his first real mission as the true, official Captain of the _Enterprise_. That was, until he looked up and saw Spock standing in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. His face was a blank mask, but his head was inclined in a way that conveyed curiosity or puzzlement – or maybe just indigestion, Kirk thought ruefully; he'd not yet got the hang of reading his first officer.

"This is a straightforward mission," said Spock. "I can see no cause for nerves."

"I can do without the condescension, thanks," Kirk snapped, flopping into the chair at the head of the table.

Spock looked taken aback at that, and Kirk realized too late that the words had been intended as comfort, not disdain. A little embarrassed, he gestured towards the seat to his immediate right. Spock sat down, and an awkward silence stretched out between them.

Kirk had never been more grateful for Bones' rough, snide affability than when he stormed into the briefing room minutes later, muttering about the replicators.

"Sure," he was ranting, "it can rustle up a passable turkey dinner with all the trimmings, but ask it for a coffee – a simple, basic _coffee_ \- and it gives you this – this sludge." He gulped down the offending liquid and slammed the empty cup on the table as he took a seat.

"If is it so distasteful, why do you persist in both requesting and consuming it?" Spock enquired.

"He's got a point, Bones," said Kirk.

McCoy scowled at them both. "What would you know? I've heard of the ghastly stuff they serve on Vulcan. Why –"

Kirk hurriedly silenced him with a glare, and McCoy looked away guiltily.

"Served," Spock corrected him quietly. "I believe the past tense is appropriate in this instance."

"Look, I –" McCoy sounded decidedly uncomfortable, and Kirk caught a pleading glance out of the corner of his eye. His attention, though, was focused on Spock. His face was entirely expressionless to the untrained eye, and Kirk, to his frustration, was an untrained eye. Yet somehow, he knew that there was fierce, intense emotion beneath the surface, and that the signs were there if he knew what to look for.

"Please," said Spock, with a sidelong glance towards Kirk. "I am perfectly aware of the events that transpired on my home planet. I find the human habit of concealing unpleasant truths from one who already knows them quite illogical."

McCoy looked as though he were going to say something inflammatory, so Kirk cut in with, "I think what you're referring to is that we try not to remind people of issues that are…sensitive."

"That presupposes that the incident is forgotten. I can assure you I have not forgotten, and that the mention of Vulcan is not to be unduly avoided."

"Is your blood cold as well as green?" McCoy retorted before Kirk could stop him.

"Bones!" Kirk snapped, but his gaze remained on Spock. He wasn't sure how McCoy had misunderstood, because to him it was perfectly obvious what Spock was saying; that the memory would always haunt him, that nothing could make it go away.

Spock, though, kept up the appearance of being entirely undaunted. "On the contrary, Doctor, my blood runs at a higher temperature than yours. As Chief Medical Officer of a ship whose crew includes a half-Vulcan, it concerns me that you would demonstrate such ignorance of our physiology."

"It's a figure of speech," McCoy ground out between clenched teeth, staring into his empty coffee cup.

Kirk had never been more relieved to hear the swoosh of the door opening as Chekov arrived.

"Keptin," he acknowledged with a nod, standing stiffly inside the doorway until Kirk indicated that he should sit.

Kirk sat back in his chair, unable to repress a grin as he regarded the three of them. Getting these wildly different personalities to gel as a team was going to be a tough job, but that was what being Captain was all about, and he was anxious to get started.

"Er, Jim?" McCoy interrupted his thoughts. "You're kinda scaring us with that maniacal grin."

"Right, right." Kirk sat up straight and turned his attention to the task at hand. "So, this is our first mission. Well, not counting… you know… so I wanted to make sure we're all clear on what we're doing. Mr. Spock, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Certainly, Captain."

Spock took only a moment to collect his thoughts before launching into an explanation of the mission.

"KY Cygni IV is a Class M planet of 1.5 Earth masses, orbiting a red supergiant. This in itself makes it highly unusual and worthy of study, but it was adopted as a Terran colony in 2250 due to extensive dilithium deposits. In just a few years it has become one of the most prosperous mining planets in the Galaxy. However, in the last few weeks exports have dropped off considerably, and Starfleet has been unsuccessful in their attempts to contact the planet."

"Which is where we come in," Kirk interrupted. "Our mission is to find out what's wrong and fix it."

"Forgive me, Captain, but I'm quite sure the mission brief was to establish the nature of the problem and report back to Starfleet."

Kirk gave a dismissive wave.

"When the planet was colonized," Spock carried on as though uninterrupted, "there was extensive flora on the surface, but no fauna whatsoever. My latest sensor readings indicate that, aside from the humans and the livestock they brought from Earth, this is still the case."

"So they haven't been attacked by any indigenous life forms," Kirk clarified.

"Negative."

Kirk nodded and took over. "Since we're not expecting to encounter anything dangerous, the plan is for Mr. Spock and myself to beam down. Mr. Chekov, you'll be in command here. We'll check in every two hours, and if anything does go awry, I trust you'll put that tactical brain to good use."

"Yes, sir!"

Kirk smiled; it was difficult not to at Chekov's enthusiasm. "All right, then," he said. "Dismissed."

Spock and Chekov departed quickly to make the necessary preparations, but McCoy lingered, looking decidedly sullen. Kirk waited, expecting a tirade about Spock's resemblance to a machine. Instead, McCoy just gave him a long, hard look and said, "Is this the way of it now? You and Elf-boy get all buddy-buddy, so you side with him?"

Kirk frowned. "First of all," he said with ice in his voice, "Spock and I may not be trying to kill each other, but we're a long way from being friends." He paused, hurriedly quashing the ridiculous feeling of regret. "And secondly, it makes no difference who my friends are. If you're right I'll back you up, but in this case you were way out of line."

"Yeah, I know," said McCoy with a rueful smile.

"So will you apologize to him?"

McCoy shot him an incredulous look, and for a moment looked as though he were going to say something cutting. Then he seemed to catch himself and looked down, shaking his head.

"I already did," he admitted. "Or do you think I back down that easy every time?"

Kirk smiled. "Good enough." 

As he rose to leave, he clapped McCoy on the shoulder, hoping to convey that they were still friends, even when Kirk had to do the Captain thing. McCoy responded with a lopsided smile to indicate that he understood.

Kirk made his way back to the bridge slowly, welcoming the time alone to put his thoughts in order. By the time the doors of the turbolift slid open to reveal the gleam of the bridge, he was completely in control once more.

"Captain," Uhura called, the moment he stepped through the doors. "We're being hailed by KY Cygni IV."

"Open communications," Kirk replied, taking his seat in the command chair.

The screen flickered to life, revealing an elderly gentleman with long grey hair draping his shoulders.

"This is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise."

"Greetings, Captain," the man responded with a smile that was perhaps a little too friendly to Kirk's eyes. "I am Governor Tobin. We are very pleased to see you, of course. It's not often we receive visitors out here. Though, if I may, what is the purpose of your visit?"

Despite the easy smile, something in the man's manner radiated tension. Without pausing to consider why, Kirk responded, "We were passing by, so to speak, so Starfleet requested that we drop in and see how you're doing. Just a formality with all new colonies," he added with a smile.

Tobin's brow furrowed only for a moment, but it was enough for Kirk to notice. He kept his smile in place, but the unease in his gut only tightened.

"Of course, of course," Tobin beamed in entirely too easy a manner. "By all means, beam down and we'll give you the grand tour. I daresay you'll be quite impressed. Transmitting beam-down coordinates to you now."

"We'll see you soon," Kirk acknowledged. "Kirk out."

The moment the screen flickered off, Kirk's smile slipped into a frown.

"I want a landing party of four," he commanded. "Mr. Scott, have two security officers meet myself and Mr. Spock in the transporter room in five minutes. Mr. Chekov, stay in regular contact. We'll check in every half an hour. Any sign of danger to the ship, you get her out of here. That's an order."

"Understood, Keptin," came Chekov's dutiful reply, but he was frowning, obviously confused. 

As he turned to leave, Uhura stood and looked as though she were about to protest, but Kirk shot her down with a glare and headed straight for the lift.

He was unsurprised when Spock stepped into the lift after him. They stood side by side in silence until the doors closed.

"You were not entirely truthful in your explanation of our visit," Spock remarked once they were alone.

"No," Kirk acknowledged.

"Forgive me, Captain, the human capacity for deceit is something I am not yet fully acquainted with."

"Because Vulcans never lie." Kirk couldn't help but laugh, remembering the other, older Spock.

"Precisely." Spock's tone was even, but there was a hint of something – uncertainty? – as he glanced sideways towards Kirk.

The turbolift doors slid open onto Deck 5, and they fell into step beside each other as they made their way towards the transporter room.

"There was something about him," Kirk explained as they walked. "I don't know what's going on down there, but something's off. I didn't want to tip him off that we already know there's some kind of problem."

"So your aim is to see whether he tells us of his own accord."

"Exactly. We'll find out how friendly Mr. Smiley really is, then work out how to proceed."

"And if his intentions are hostile?"

"Why do you think I'm bringing security?"

"All the same, I must question the wisdom of both Captain and First Officer beaming into a potentially hostile situation."

"Huh." Kirk stopped just outside the transporter room, frowning. Spock turned to face him, one eyebrow raised in question. "You want to stay here?" Kirk asked.

There was a pause. Kirk could feel his insides squirming uncomfortably, though he couldn't have said why. He had been entirely unafraid of facing whatever was waiting for them, but the thought of doing so without Spock made him irrationally nervous.

"On the contrary," Spock said at last, fixing Kirk with one of his heavily laden glances. "I was going to suggest that you remain behind."

Kirk grinned, something that felt oddly like relief flooding through him. "No chance," he said.

Spock looked away for just a moment before catching Kirk's eye again, and though his face remained utterly impassive, Kirk recognized the gesture and laughed aloud.

"That was an eye roll, right? In Vulcan-speak."

"I believe you are ascribing to me an emotion akin to exasperation, in which case you are mistaken."

Still grinning, Kirk turned towards the transporter room, clapped Spock on the shoulder and said, "No I'm not."

They were equipped with phasers and joined momentarily by two red-shirted security officers, Matthews and Rayburn.

"This is a peaceful mission," Kirk explained to them, "but remain on alert. Discreetly. Phasers on stun."

They nodded and took their places on the transporter platform. Once everyone was in position, Kirk took a deep breath and gave the command to begin his first mission.

"Energize."

*

When they materialized on the planet's surface, Kirk's first impression was of a desert. Yet as he looked around, he realized that they were surrounded on all sides by trees of the deep red of autumn back home. "It's very red."

"Indeed," Spock confirmed in what was very nearly an amused tone. Kirk realized only then that he had spoken aloud. He floundered for something more intelligent to say, but Spock continued, "I mentioned that the planet had indigenous flora. In fact, it is significantly more prevalent than on other planets, even the pre-industrialized Earth, despite having a less humid climate."

"Interesting," Kirk lied.

"It is fascinating," said Spock, examining his tricorder, apparently oblivious to Kirk's insincerity.

Kirk watched him for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "Why Mr. Spock, if I didn't know better I'd say you were quite excited about this mission."

That caused Spock to look up from his readings. "While the emotional implications of your assessment are, of course, inaccurate, I am a scientist, and as such it is only logical –"

"Of course," Kirk interrupted. "Carry on."

Spock did so, but with his back turned to Kirk, which amused the captain no end. Suddenly, a fleeting image flickered through his mind: Spock was smiling, laughing even, though he wasn't sure how he knew this, because it wasn't Spock he saw but himself. And accompanying that image, for some reason, was the most intense joy and relief Kirk had ever experienced.

"Gentlemen, I bid you welcome to our colony," a silky voice said.

Relieved to be pulled from his bizarre reverie, Kirk drew himself up and extended a hand to Governor Tobin. His handshake was a little too firm, and his smile seemed even more false up close.

"This is my first officer, Commander Spock, and crewmen Matthews and Rayburn."

Kirk watched Tobin closely as he greeted them each in turn, barely suppressing his annoyance when the Governor forced a handshake on Spock, as though he didn't know how intrusive Vulcans found the gesture. _But how do I know that?_ Kirk started to wonder, before Tobin caught his attention once more.

"If you'll accompany me," Tobin said. "I will show you our city."

They were led down a tree-lined path, the boughs creating a deep red canopy above them. Kirk thought of them as trees simply because of their magnitude, but they were nothing like trees on Earth. Their trunks were almost purple and wound with red vines that spread out overhead, linking with their neighbors and forming a thatched ceiling. Sunlight streamed through the mesh, forming a dappled pattern on the ground.

Spock had fallen into step beside him, their guide in front and the two security officers behind them. Though he was keeping perfect pace and never once tripped over the many vines that crossed their path, Spock was entirely engrossed in his tricorder, so they walked in silence.

At last, the trees cleared, and Kirk's jaw dropped at the sight before them. Tall, transparent aluminum structures towered overhead, gleaming in the intense orange light of the sun.

Tobin turned to face them, and seemed pleased with Kirk's reaction. As he turned away again to lead them inside, Kirk glanced sideways towards Spock, whose expression registered no surprise at all. Not that that necessarily meant anything, Kirk reminded himself.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" he said under his breath.

"In what sense?" Spock replied, sounding wholly unimpressed.

Kirk shrugged. "It's shiny."

"Ostentatious," Spock countered. "It is illogical to build structures so tall when there is no shortage of space. The colony has been prosperous, as I said, but their architecture suggests that they are overly anxious to demonstrate that fact."

"Like they have something to prove?"

"Precisely."

Kirk laughed and shook his head. At Spock's questioning eyebrow, he explained, "Even buildings give away more about themselves than you do."

Spock seemed to consider that for a moment before he replied, his voice so low Kirk wasn't even sure he was meant to hear.

"I disagree."

*

The tour was long, tiring and, as far as Kirk was concerned, utterly fruitless. They were introduced to numerous management types and sales and marketing staff, all in spacious, modern offices. They were shown around the shipping department, a vast hangar in which a few harried-looking employees loaded crates into space shuttles, barely taking the time to greet the visitors. In between, Kirk checked in with the _Enterprise_ at half-hourly intervals, and if Tobin found anything odd about the frequency of their contact he was polite enough not to say so.

Finally, and only because Kirk insisted, they were shown the mines themselves. They were deep, quiet and somehow eerily familiar; Kirk was reminded of an image he'd had, of himself and Spock in a deep underground tunnel. He shuddered.

Spock noticed, and moved swiftly to his side. "Is there something wrong?" he murmured.

"Not at all," Kirk replied. "But I'm bored. Let's get out of here." Spock nodded his agreement, so Kirk called Tobin over. "I think we're done."

Tobin smiled genially, but it was indisputably a look of relief that crossed his face. "Very well," he said. "We would, of course, be delighted if you would remain as our guests for the evening meal."

Kirk cast a sideways glance towards Spock and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Spock caught it and responded in kind.

"We would be honored," Kirk confirmed.

They were led to the tallest tower, and into a lift that seemed to go on forever. At last, they were led out onto one of the highest floors. The vast windows revealed a seemingly endless vista of deepest red, and made Kirk, who had never before experienced any kind of vertigo, feel vaguely nauseated.

Tobin gestured towards a door to their right. "These are our guest quarters," he explained. "Our dinner is served in two hours. In the meantime, please relax, and feel free to wander around. The computer will send for anything you need."

"Thank you," said Kirk, and Tobin departed with a bow and one of his beaming smiles.

Matthews and Rayburn went through the door first, while Kirk remained transfixed by the view. Though he could not see him, he knew that Spock was standing just behind him.

"It's so bright," Kirk remarked. He didn't really expect a response, but of course Spock had an explanation.

"Its host star is a supergiant. You can see it through the other window."

Kirk turned around, and there through the opposite window was the sun. It was high in the sky, at odds with the color that felt distinctly like an Earth sunset. Yet it looked only a little larger than Sol as seen from Earth.

"It doesn't look so giant," he remarked.

Spock made that slight gesture with his eyes again. He only shifted his gaze very slightly from Kirk, to a point just over his left shoulder, but it was unmistakably a sign of exasperation.

"That is because we are significantly further away from KY Cygni than Earth is from Sol."

"I'd guessed that," said Kirk, "I'm just goading you."

That earned him a raised eyebrow. "To what end?"

Kirk shrugged. "Undoubtedly fruitless attempts to elicit an emotional response. Give me a dozen or so more tries, I'll get there."

For some reason, this caused Spock to tense noticeably. He turned his back on Kirk, facing out of the window towards the red star.

"KY Cygni is over a thousand times larger than Sol, yet much cooler. We are over ten times further away than even the most distant planet in your system."

"How long before it goes supernova?" Kirk asked. At Spock's raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes – the human way. "Yeah, I took astro at the Academy too. It's a red giant, so it's dying. When?"

"It has a few million years yet." Spock paused for a moment, then added, "And I was not questioning your knowledge of stellar evolution, merely the fact that you were willing to demonstrate it."

"I beg your pardon?"

Spock looked pointedly out of the window as he replied, "You have a habit of feigning ignorance in some matters. I have found it curiously illogical, given your tendency towards –"

Kirk was struggling to fight back laughter as he prompted, "Go on."

"It is of no consequence."

Spock turned away, but not before Kirk noticed the green tinge to his cheeks. "You were going to say arrogance," he supplied. "And I think blushing counts as an emotional response, so I win."

"I am not –" Spock began, but he cut himself off, apparently deciding that attack was the best form of defense. "I acquainted myself with your academic record, Captain."

Kirk laughed. "Then yeah, you're right, I know the theory. But working out the numbers, so I'd know what it looks like from down here? I can't do that without a computer, or at least a pen and paper. So no, it's not feigned – I really did expect it to look bigger. I mean, it's over a thousand Sols across. That's pretty big. But I'm guessing you had it all worked out in your head before we even arrived."

Spock regarded him closely for a moment. "If I am not mistaken," he said at last, "I believe that was what you would refer to as a compliment."

Kirk grinned. "I'll deny it on pain of death if you tell anyone. Come on, let's see what the others are up to."

He made his way into the guest quarters, but Spock hesitated before following.

The guest quarters were stunning. Kirk had expected a single room with a bathroom for them to freshen up. Instead, he was greeted by a vast living area, with three long leather sofas arranged before a screen that took up an entire wall. Leading off from that room were six large bedrooms, each of them with an en suite bathroom.

One of the security officers – Kirk realized guiltily that he had forgotten which was which – was sprawled out on one of the sofas, but sprang upright as he saw Kirk.

"At ease," Kirk sighed. "This place is quite something, isn't it?"

"Aye, sir," Matthews-or-Rayburn replied. "Although…permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Kirk nodded.

"There's something not right about it," he continued.

"What do you mean?" Kirk asked, taking a seat on another of the sofas.

"I mean, I used to work on a mining colony, and this one… Well, we met lots of office types today, but when we went to the places where the actual work gets done, they were all but deserted. It's no wonder they're not meeting their quota."

"How did you know –" Kirk frowned. "That wasn't in the official brief."

The security officer looked abashed. "I know, but the place I used to work was close to being put out of business by these folks, and… well, good news travels fast, as they say."

"Mr. Rayburn is correct." Kirk had not heard Spock enter the room, and was startled to hear his voice from directly behind him. "I too observed a curious lack of activity."

Kirk stood and began pacing the room. "So you're suggesting the reason exports have dropped off is that they're understaffed?"

"Affirmative," from one side of the room.

"Aye, Captain," from the other.

"Which means," Kirk continued, thinking aloud, "that either people are leaving, or…" He left the alternative unsaid.

"They'd have a hard time leaving." The other security officer – Matthews – had emerged from one of the rooms. "These places don't have starships of their own, just shuttles to transport the stuff up to ships in orbit. One or two people could probably smuggle themselves on a cargo ship, but if it was happening on this large a scale, I can't believe we wouldn't have heard about it."

Kirk cast a glance towards Spock. "His logic is sound," Spock confirmed.

Kirk heaved a sigh. "How long do we have before we're summoned?" he asked.

"Ninety-three minutes and –"

"All right." Kirk held up a hand. "When the Governor said two hours, I doubt he timed that to the second," he added with a smile.

Spock looked impassive, as usual. "Then why specify a time?"

Kirk opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself. Then, "You're winding me up, aren't you?"

"Perhaps."

Kirk shook his head, laughing. Had they been alone, he would have goaded the Vulcan further about a sense of humor – even a dry one – being another emotional trait, but in deference to their company, he said instead, "Is there any entertainment in here?"

"Some vids," Matthews supplied. "And there's a chess set in that cupboard."

"Excellent." Kirk clapped his hands. "Mr. Spock, do you play chess?"

Spock shot him that look only he could produce, the one that was at the same time completely blank yet conveyed an amused smirk. Tilting his head slightly, he replied, "I am acquainted with the game."

"You get it set up while I check in with Chekov."

There was no doubt about it now; Spock was definitely suppressing a smirk as he located and set up the three-dimensional board. Kirk watched him carefully as he relayed their plans to the _Enterprise_.

"Kirk out," he said when he was done. Snapping the communicator shut, he turned a predatory glare upon his first officer. "Sure you're up to this?"

By way of reply, Spock made his first move. Kirk slid into the seat opposite him, grinning. "All right," he said. "Bring it on."

The security officers hovered for the first few moves, obviously curious to watch their commanding officers, but they soon located the latest in virtual reality consoles and disappeared into one of the other rooms for a game that appeared to involve much jumping and waving of arms.

Once they were alone, Kirk said in a low voice, "There's a reason I asked about the supernova."

"You are thinking about Romulus."

It was a statement, not a question, but Kirk felt compelled to reply, "Yes."

"There is nothing about Nero's interference with the timeline that ought to affect the course of the Hobus star's life. Since I know precisely the time that the supernova will strike, I assume it will be my duty to prevent it in time, and complete the task that my…counterpart could not."

"And you'll do that, after what they did to Vulcan?"

Spock fixed him with one of his intense stares. "Nero did not speak for the Romulan Empire. And even if he did –"

"Two wrongs don't make a right. Yeah, I know."

"A curious expression, but apt."

Kirk moved his knight and could have sworn the tiny twitch of Spock's eyebrow was an expression of triumph.

"Are you certain you wouldn't rather join in with them?" Spock asked.

Kirk glanced through the open doorway to see Matthews, a headset covering his eyes, leap off the bed, his arms flailing in a bizarre manner. Come to think of it, it did look like more fun than chess. But then he caught sight of Spock leaning over the board, his eyebrows drawn together only slightly, yet in one of the most emotive expressions he'd ever seen on the Vulcan's face, and he felt inexplicably warm.

"If you're surrendering," he teased.

"On the contrary," came Spock's curt reply, "I'll have you checkmated in three moves."

In a sudden flash of inspiration, Kirk abandoned his strategy and moved his rook. This caused Spock to sit up straight with an unmistakable frown.

"Would you like to rethink that?" Spock asked. Kirk shook his head. "Are you sure?" Spock tried again. "Logically –"

"– is the wrong way to play with you," Kirk cut in; though he could not have said where the certainty he felt came from. "If I play illogically, you can't predict my next move. It frustrates you enormously." Again, he could not have said how he knew that, but the fact that Spock didn't immediately jump down his throat for ascribing an emotion to him was proof enough that he was right.

Sure enough, half a dozen moves later Kirk was able to announce, "Checkmate!" to an extremely bemused Spock.

Kirk sat back triumphantly and watched as Spock stared blankly at the board, obviously completely at a loss to explain how he'd been beaten.

At length, Spock sat up and met Kirk's gaze evenly. "I kindly request a rematch, once we are back aboard the _Enterprise_."

"As often as you like," Kirk replied, and meant it.

*

Dinner was served on the very top floor, in a vast hall whose transparent walls made it seem almost that they were outside on the roof of the tower. As the sun set, the sky outside turned such a deep red that it gave the disturbing appearance of being aflame.

Kirk and Spock were seated at one end of a long table. To Kirk's left, at the head of the table, was Tobin. Opposite them, one of the managing directors of the mine and her husband, a farmer, prattled mindlessly about the new farm they'd just built, and the wonders of modern machinery that meant the place effectively ran itself – and, to Kirk's ears, took all the fun out of it.

At last, the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a dozen scurrying waiters, each of them bearing a large – oh. Kirk frowned and turned as discreetly as possible to Tobin.

"My apologies, Governor, I had assumed you were aware that my first officer is a vegetarian."

He glanced over towards Spock, who was wearing his usual veneer of calm, but with straightness to his posture that suggested severe discomfort, though whether that was due to the steak in front of him or the fact that his captain was making an issue of it, Kirk could not tell.

Tobin looked panicked. Probably because of his unintentional gaffe, Kirk assumed, and felt grimly satisfied that he'd been able to wipe that insincere smile off the man's face.

While Tobin called over one of the waiters to the corner of the room and had a whispered but obviously heated conversation, Kirk turned to Spock and whispered, "Are you all right?"

"Affirmative. I should of course have declined the invitation. Regrettably, I fear I was too tempted by the offer of non-reconstituted food."

Kirk had to smile at that. "I know the feeling," he said. But then he registered what Spock and said and added, "But of course you shouldn't have declined. It's something anyone ought to know about Vulcans."

"There are not so many of us that we can expect such things to be widely known."

Taken aback, Kirk could think of nothing to say. He laid a hand on Spock's arm and swallowed around the sudden, humiliating lump in his throat as an image flashed through his mind. It was something he'd seen in his head a thousand times – a planet breaking up and being swallowed into nothingness – but not from the perspective he'd seen it; he saw it now from the surface of another nearby planet, and the accompanying grief was overwhelming.

A warm hand covered his, snapping Kirk back to the present. He met Spock's eyes, expecting understanding or sadness or anything but the confusion he saw there as Spock gently but firmly removed Kirk's hand from his arm.

Right, Kirk remembered with an inward cringe, Vulcans were weird about being touched, and Spock especially so. He supposed living in a society of touch telepaths would do that.

It was only as his hearing and vision cleared that Kirk realized he'd been feeling light-headed. Forcing his thoughts back to the issues at hand, he turned his most charming smile on the couple opposite him, realizing only as he looked over that they were both staring unabashedly at him and Spock.

Kirk grasped idly for something to say, but was spared by the timely arrival of another waiter, who swiftly exchanged Spock's steak for a plate of red vegetation, muttered something apologetic and then beat a hasty retreat. Kirk was given no time to wonder at this strange behavior before Tobin returned to his seat, his ingratiating smile fixed back in place.

"I do hope you'll forgive our faux pas," he said. "We are not accustomed to non-human visitors, and there are no vegetarians here."

That struck Kirk as odd, for a colony of this size, but he didn't say so.

"Understandable, Governor," said Spock, in what Kirk considered far too charitable a tone.

"I've had them prepare some bloodvine for you. Please forgive the name – they're the huge red plants you saw as you arrived." He beamed again in that infuriating manner. "The blood part refers only to the color."

"Fascinating. It had never occurred to me to associate Terran plants with bloodshed."

Kirk had to force himself to suppress a laugh at the look of bewilderment that passed across their hosts' faces; obviously none of them had seen a Vulcan bleed. Kirk was quite ready to believe they'd never seen a Vulcan at all.

"It seems you're quite the enigma here," he said to Spock, but with a wink at the woman – Linda? Laura? – seated opposite him that caused her husband to visibly bristle.

Perhaps sensing that a distraction was required, Tobin proposed a toast to the Federation and they tucked into their meals.

The steak was marvelous, but Kirk was more concerned with watching Spock, though if the bloodvine was in any way disagreeable he didn't show it. Not that Kirk had expected he would, of course.

The meal passed slowly, accompanied by dreary conversation about state-of-the-art mining technology and holiday homes beside the planet's single vast ocean. Kirk recalled what Spock had said about their buildings, and had to agree that they seemed awfully eager to impress upon them how wealthy they were.

Before long, he found his attention drifting, and he looked longingly towards the other end of the table, where Matthews and Rayburn were engaged in a raucous and no doubt more entertaining conversation with some of the miners.

When at last the ordeal was over, Tobin invited them to stay for some musical entertainment. Kirk was anxious to leave, but he turned to Spock.

"Actually, Captain, I find myself quite fatigued," said Spock with an apologetic glance towards Tobin. "Though if you wish to stay –"

"Not at all," Kirk interrupted, probably too eagerly, he realized. "Let me fetch the others."

The four of them said their goodbyes, were given an earnest and yet somehow – to Kirk's ears – entirely insincere invitation to return, and were soon making their way back through the trees, the path now outlined by small, concealed lights. Kirk was so lost in thought, frustrated beyond belief by the entire lack of information their hosts had offered, that at first he didn't notice when Spock fell behind. Only when he turned to his side, seeking an opinion, did he realize that the Vulcan was some way behind them.

"Spock?" he called. "Are you all right?"

"Quite well, Captain," came the reply, but his voice was weak. Kirk paused. The two security officers came back to flank him, waiting for instructions. Kirk hesitated only until he saw Spock stagger slightly, then he rushed over and was just in time to catch the Vulcan as he fell to the ground.

For a moment, he just knelt on the ground, Spock's head in his lap, utterly stunned. His chest felt constricted, and his head started to swim. Then he started shaking Spock by the shoulders, calling "Spock, Spock, Spock!" over and over, blood pounding in his ears as panic gripped him.

Matthews knelt beside him and took Spock's wrist. After a moment, he announced, "He has a pulse. Slow, but… I don't know what's normal for a Vulcan."

Kirk nodded dumbly. Then his command training took over and, as though operating on autopilot, he heard himself bark, "Communicator." Rayburn held his out, flipped open so that Kirk didn't have to remove his arms from around Spock.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_ ," he called, aware that his voice shook but not caring.

" _Enterprise_ here." It was Scotty's voice; Kirk closed his eyes in relief.

"Mr. Scott, I need you to see if you can beam us up from here. Mr. Spock is…" He trailed off, looking desperately at the limp form in his arms.

"No worries, I'll have a stab at it."

"And have Dr. McCoy standing by," Kirk added.

"Aye, Captain."

Kirk waited, helpless, his head spinning. Mere seconds passed, but they stretched out endlessly. Matthews was still clutching Spock's wrist, monitoring his pulse. Rayburn had the tricorder, but was shaking his head. "There's nothing around, Captain," he reported. "If anything attacked him it's gone."

"No," said Kirk with a sigh, "he started feeling ill right after dinner. 'Fatigued' my ass! Why didn't you say anything, you pointy-eared bastard?" He shook Spock's shoulders with vigor, but the Vulcan's head just lolled lifelessly.

Suddenly, a tingling sensation swept over him, and he saw their surroundings flicker and fade, to be replaced by the sterile gleam of the transporter room.

McCoy was at his side in an instant. Clumsily, Kirk tried to stagger to his feet, still clutching Spock's shoulders as McCoy grabbed his legs. But Kirk found his own legs were none too steady, so when Matthews pushed him to the side and took Spock's weight, Kirk stood aside and watched them go.

"Did you see that?" Scotty's cheerful voice smashed rudely through his stunned state. "Weakest signal I've ever seen, through those whatevers down there! I _like_ this ship!"

Kirk simply stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded by the tone of triumph. Suddenly, his despair melted into anger, and acid dripped from his voice as he snapped, "Don't you have a ship to run?"

Scotty looked taken aback, but not frightened.

"I dunno," he sighed. "One minute Mr. Pointy-ears is tryin' to kill ye, the next you're cluckin' over 'im like a mother hen. I cannnae keep up wi' this place!"

Scotty walked out shaking his head. Keenser trailed after him, casting Kirk a lingering, sad look, and then Kirk was alone in the transporter room.

He took a deep breath, then moved to the console, meaning to contact the bridge, but before his hand could reach the button his mind was flooded by another memory that was not his own: he was looking down on himself – or someone who looked somewhat like him, but a little older – lying unconscious on a bed. With a hand that was not his, he reached out touched his own face, and he was overcome with worry and grief.

And then he was alone in the transporter room again, breathing heavily, the intensity of what he'd just felt still twisting in his gut. But he could not allow himself to be distracted; he drew himself up, took a deep breath, and marched out towards the lift and the bridge.

That he went via Sickbay was, he insisted to himself, an unhappy coincidence, but since he was passing he slipped inside. Spock was still unconscious, and McCoy was drawing green blood from one arm. Uhura sat stiffly beside the bed, and did not acknowledge Kirk's arrival.

Kirk felt his insides clench. He tried to look away, but felt unable to tear his gaze from Spock's lifeless form. His skin was even paler than usual, and he looked pained even in sleep.

He didn't notice McCoy moving until the doctor was by his side. "It's not good, Jim," he said in an undertone. "I've done all I can to make him comfortable, but…"

Kirk was suddenly overcome with inexplicable blinding rage. _Why are you wasting your time making him 'comfortable' instead of curing him?_ he wanted to yell. Instead, he took a deep breath and fought for focus. Yet when he spoke, he could hear the tremor in his voice.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked. 

"I don't know," McCoy admitted, "but it's undoubtedly –"

"Poison, I know," Kirk finished.

"They did this?" McCoy turned to face him, and to Kirk's surprise the doctor's expression was livid.

"That's what I'm going to find out. But while I take care of them, you're going to save him. That's an order."

"I know."

"Lieutenant," Kirk raised his voice to address Uhura. "I believe you're supposed to be on duty."

The look Uhura turned on him was laced with venom. "Then have me court-martialed. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, you are. You can stay here and pathetically moon over him, or you can meet me in the transporter room in five minutes."

Her anger melted into an expression of pure – Kirk would have to remember this, always – gratitude as she nodded her acknowledgement.

With a curt nod to them both and carefully avoiding looking at Spock, Kirk turned away and all but ran to the lift.

The moment he set foot on the bridge, all conversation ceased, and numerous curious faces turned to him. Scotty had preceded him, and no doubt filled in everyone else.

"I'm beaming back down," Kirk announced. "Mr. Scott, Mr. Sulu, you're coming with me. Chekov, I want all weapons on standby."

If Chekov was taken aback by this he had the discipline not to show it, though his "Yes, Keptin" was a touch quieter than usual. Sulu and Scotty leapt to their feet; Sulu looked concerned, but Scotty was grinning.

Uhura was already in the transporter room when they arrived. While they were being equipped with communicators and phasers, Kirk laid out the plan.

"Tobin is behind this, somehow. Sulu, you and I are going to get him to tell us what he slipped in Mr. Spock's dinner." He smiled ruefully. "Another chance for you to prove those fencing skills."

"Yes, Captain."

"Scotty, I want you and Lt Uhura to work out what's in those plants."

"We're… pickin' flowers? While you and Mr. Sulu get into a brawl with the locals?"

"That's right. If there's something dangerous in those plants, you're to find it and report back to Dr. McCoy immediately – don't go through me. If it's something that bastard added, we'll find out. Understood?"

Uhura nodded, wearing that fiercely determined expression that Kirk had been on the receiving end of more than once. He began to wonder if he shouldn't have placed her with the combat party.

It was completely dark when they materialized on the planet's surface. The stars formed unfamiliar patterns overhead, but there was no other light; KY Cygni IV had no moon. Kirk could just make out the faint glow of the softly lit path to the city, so he headed towards it. The others automatically fell into line behind him.

Shortly before they reached the end of the path, Kirk stopped and turned to face Scotty.

"Mr. Scott, Lieutenant Uhura, you will remain here. I repeat, if you find anything, you're to report to Dr. McCoy first. Understood?"

"Aye, Captain," said Scotty. Uhura didn't reply; she was already examining the tall, red structures.

Kirk turned to Sulu. "Ready?"

Sulu grinned. "No space jumps onto tiny targets manned by armed guards? Our standards are slipping, Captain."

"Do half as good a job as you did there and we'll be out in no time," said Kirk. Then, with a reassuring clap on Sulu's shoulder, he drew his phaser and led him out towards the tall tower they had left only a short while before.

Kirk was almost disappointed to find no security at the entrance to the tower. They made straight for the lift and emerged on the top floor to find the evening's festivities still in full swing.

"Everyone on the floor," he roared. Instantly, the music stopped, and dozens of shocked faces turned in his direction, Sulu's among them. "The floor!" Kirk repeated.

Sulu took only a moment to compose himself, before taking his place at Kirk's side, phaser drawn. Everyone dropped to the ground – everyone except Tobin, who wore a hesitant version of his omnipresent smile, his hands raised and his eyes darting between Kirk and Sulu's phasers.

"You," Kirk barked, jabbing his phaser towards Tobin. "You will tell me what you did to my first officer."

Tobin's face visibly fell. "Your Vulcan has fallen?"

"Fallen? What does that mean? You poisoned him!"

Tobin shook his head vigorously. Impatient, Kirk aimed his phaser, but then thought better of it and charged towards the Governor. His fist connected with the man's jaw with a satisfying crack, and he went flying towards the wall.

A crowd of burly miners had them immediately surrounded. At first, Sulu just stared at the scene in disbelief, but then he swung into action. Arming himself with a simple wooden chair, he charged at a group of them and left them sprawled on the floor.

From behind him, an arm wrapped around Kirk's neck. With a jab of his elbow, he was able to spin around and pin his assailant underneath him, but then another leapt on his back. He rolled, trying to shake him off, but two more appeared and held his arms behind his back while another charged towards him.

Kirk braced himself, but the impact never came. He opened his eyes and saw the miner lying unconscious in front of him. In the instant it took him to register this, the two men holding his arms also dropped to the ground.

Sulu, one foot on Tobin, was holding out his phaser. His eyes were darting around the room, searching for any more attackers, but no one else approached them.

Kirk shot Sulu a grateful smile and staggered to his feet. Apart from some soreness in his shoulders and a rip across the right shoulder of his gold shirt, he was unscathed. With all the dignity he could muster in his state, he gestured Tobin towards a chair. Sulu released him and pulled him to his feet, but Tobin declined to sit. He faced Kirk squarely, his hands on his hips.

"Would you care to explain to me what gives you right to charge in here and murder –"

"They're not dead," Kirk cut in. He held up his phaser. "They're set to stun."

This barely seemed to mollify the Governor. "We have been perfectly hospitable –"

"You poisoned my first officer!"

"We did no such thing!"

"Then explain to me why he, the only one of us who ate anything different to what you served to your own people, collapsed moments after we left here, and is now dying in my ship." To his horror, Kirk's voice caught at the end. He covered it up by lifting his chin defiantly and declaring, "If he dies, I swear I'll kill you."

To his surprise, all signs of aggression left Tobin's posture, and he simply looked sad. "You misunderstand. I can't explain it. No one here can explain it, and we've been trying for eight years."

"So this is what's been killing your people? The reason your exports have dropped off?"

Tobin nodded.

"Yet you served the same thing to my first officer!"

"No!" Tobin insisted. "You don't understand. I would never… I lost my wife to this. The bloodvine… it is not poisonous. At least, we have tested it, over and over again, and can find nothing wrong with it."

Exasperated, not to mention frustrated that he was finding it difficult to hate the pitiful figure who was pleading with him, Kirk dropped his phaser to his side and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're contradicting yourself. You say it's killing people, though you can't find out why, and you still eat it."

"Nothing else will grow here," Tobin admitted miserably. "We tried everything, and all that we plant is spoiled or dies. We had no choice but to eat the bloodvine, and to feed it to our livestock, and for a while it was fine…"

"But then," Kirk prompted, "people started dying."

"It took us a while to link it to the bloodvine, but even once we did there was nothing we could do."

"Why?"

"It's like no other disease." Tobin's expression was desperate, almost pleading. "It changes so rapidly our medicine can't keep up. It strikes at random. Sometimes, months will pass, and then suddenly, dozens will die at once."

"And you didn't think to mention this before serving this mysterious death plant to Mr. Spock?"

"I was anxious, Captain, but the chef assured me that he had a safe plant, one that numerous others had eaten of this very day."

"And you think it just randomly developed this toxin this evening?"

"I have no other explanation," said Tobin.

Kirk cast a look of exasperation towards Sulu, but he was looking around at the others in the hall; they were all huddled around the edges, looking frightened. But their shocked, fearful expressions were not aimed at the intruders, but at Tobin himself.

With a sudden uneasy certainty, Kirk said, "This is some big secret, isn't it?"

"It is not spoken of," Tobin admitted. "Not with off-worlders."

"Why? Did you not think to ask Starfleet for help?"

"We tried, in the beginning," said Tobin. "But there is no help. This planet…as I said, nothing grows here but this one plant, and that attacks us at random. If they knew…they would close us down, force us to leave!"

"Then leave! There are other worlds, all over the Galaxy."

"We cannot leave!" Tobin's eyes widened. "The dilithium –"

"Is not as important as people's lives!"

"But we have a good life here. Our dilithium reserves are greater than any other planet. We know wealth where before, on other worlds, we scratched out our livings in the dirt –"

"Wait." Kirk was unable to hide the disgust in his tone as he looked around, addressing the whole hall. "You mean to say you choose to stay here, even though people die, because you're _rich_?"

Tobin's response was to drop his gaze to the floor. Around the edges of the hall, the others were doing the same, carefully avoiding Kirk's judgmental stare.

"And you say there's nothing you can do for Mr. Spock?" he asked at last, resigned.

"Nothing," said Tobin. "This latest strain… it has defeated everything we've tried."

Feeling numb, Kirk clipped his phaser to his belt and cast one last incredulous look around the hall. Then he turned to Sulu and said, "Let's get out of here."

They left the building in silence, since there was nothing to say. He hated them, all of them, yet he pitied them at the same time. But most of all he hated them, for the pathetic lie they were living was going to cost him his first officer, and his friend.

The darkness that surrounded them suddenly felt stifling. His insides churned, and his breath came in short, sharp gasps. He wanted, more than anything, to return to the ship, though the idea of doing so with no solution burned him.

They found Scotty and Uhura where they had left them. "Come on," Kirk called. "We're beaming back."

Scotty shot him a sympathetic look, the resignation in his tone testifying to the fruitlessness of their mission. But they had walked no more than a few paces before Uhura called, "Wait."

"You won't find anything," Kirk snapped. "They've tried."

"Look at this," Uhura insisted.

Kirk approached her with an impatient, "What?"

Uhura reached out and tore out a section of vine that was wrapped around one of the nearby trees. "See how it recoils?"

"Lots of plants do that," Kirk shrugged.

"But now look." She reached for it again, and before her fingers made contact with the plant, the vines retreated. "It's afraid."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Kirk. "It's a plant."

"That's my point, Captain," Uhura insisted. "I don't think it is. Not as we know plants, anyway."

"The trees are alive?" Scotty exclaimed, shooting a panicked glance at the canopy above them.

"Sentient," Uhura confirmed.

Kirk paused for a moment while he wrapped his head around this new idea. It was completely insane, yet.... "It makes sense," he concluded.

"Captain?" Sulu sounded disbelieving.

"Think about it," said Kirk. "If they can consciously create and alter toxins, it would explain why the attacks have been so random."

"And it's understandable, if they're being eaten," said Uhura.

"Right," Kirk confirmed. "So what we have to do is explain to them that our intentions are peaceful and that we didn't know and it won't happen again, and get them to give us an antidote."

Kirk looked expectantly at Uhura. There was a pregnant pause, then Uhura exclaimed, "You want me to talk to the trees?"

"You're the communications officer," Kirk said with a shrug. "They must be communicating, for this thing to spread, so communicate with it."

"I don't think they have language," said Uhura, eyeing him in that way that meant he was clearly dangerously insane. "If they communicate, it's not with sound."

Kirk kicked the ground in frustration. "Well, there has to be _something_ we can do. Anyone?"

Three blank faces greeted him. Scotty gave an apologetic shrug.

Kirk was about to admit defeat when, with a sudden certainty whose source he couldn't identify, he said, "Spock can do it."

"What?" said three voices in unison.

"He's a touch telepath," Kirk explained.

"He's also the one who's unconscious," Uhura pointed out.

"Still," said Kirk, "he's our – his – only shot. We need to take one of these things alive."

The other three exchanged incredulous glances, but didn't argue.

It was easier said than done. Scotty aimed phaser blasts at the area around the thing's roots, while Kirk, Scotty and Uhura pulled. With the heel of her boots, Uhura was able to tug the roots loose from the ground, and at last it was free. Only as it fell to the ground did Kirk appreciate how incredibly vast it was. It took all four of them, with multiple stops, to heave the thing to the beam point.

The look on the duty engineer's face as they beamed up with a massive red tree was priceless. In the confines of the transporter room, it was bent over double, and its vines spread everywhere.

They wrestled it down the hall and into Sickbay, where they were greeted by an utterly disbelieving McCoy.

"Are you insane?" he bellowed. "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a botanist!"

"It… I'll explain later," Kirk gasped under the strain of the tree-like thing. "You have to wake him up."

McCoy looked at him then as though he'd grown an extra head. "You want me to _what_? He's barely alive, Jim."

"I don't care what it takes. Wake him up. It's his only chance."

"He's right, Doctor," Uhura backed him up.

McCoy hesitated for just a moment, his eyes flicking between the two of them. Then he rolled his eyes, muttered something Kirk was glad he didn't catch, and started preparing a hypospray.

"I'm warning you," he said. "He's going to be in a lot of pain, and he won't last long. So whatever you've got planned, it has to be quick."

Kirk nodded, and held his breath as McCoy jabbed the hypo into Spock's neck. It took only a moment, then Spock was blinking and gasping for air.

Without any conscious thought, Kirk was at his bedside in an instant. Uhura was there too, grasping Spock's hand desperately.

"Spock," said Kirk, trying to keep his voice calm. "We need you to do something."

Spock opened his eyes, looked disoriented for only the briefest moment, and then fixed his gaze on Kirk.

"This tree…thing. It's what poisoned you. We think it's sentient. I need you to communicate with it, with that meld thing."

"How…?" Spock rasped.

"Look," Kirk insisted, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice. "I know you can do this. Don't ask me how, I just do. And this is your only shot, so you are going to do it. I order you not to let my first officer die, you understand?"

"Captain –" Uhura cut in, evidently shocked by the anger in Kirk's voice.

"There's no time," Kirk snapped at her. "You can mollycoddle him later."

Kirk gestured towards Scotty and Sulu, who dragged the red monstrosity over to the bed, within Spock's reach. In response to Spock's raised eyebrow, Kirk leaned in and helped him to sit up. There was only a brief flicker across his face, but Kirk knew, somehow, that he was in intense pain.

"This won't take long." He tried to sound reassuring, but knew that there was panic in his voice.

Spock nodded, took a deep breath, and wrenched his hand from Uhura's grasp. He flexed his fingers and then carefully, deliberately, placed them on the plant's thick purple trunk.

Kirk sat on the edge of the bed, waiting with bated breath for any sign that it was working.

A minute passed in silence. Then another.

Uhura sighed. "Captain, I don't think –"

Kirk silenced her with a wave of his hand and watched Spock closely, willing him desperately on.

At last, Spock made a strange, desperate rasping sound. Kirk jumped to his feet. "What was that, Mr. Spock?"

"You came from the stars," Spock murmured in a monotone. "You ripped us up…destroyed us…"

"Yes, yes, we know, but you can help?" Kirk demanded.

"Jim," said McCoy from over his shoulder. "Give him some space."

Kirk reluctantly stepped back and waited. It was agonizing. Spock's face was creased in pain – whether his own or the plant's, Kirk wasn't sure – and he kept murmuring disjointed sentences about death and destruction.

Kirk was just about to interrupt and order him to stop when Spock finally removed his fingers from the plant and collapsed back on the bed. Uhura reached desperately for his hand again, shooting a pleading glance towards McCoy, who was already preparing another hypospray.

"Please," said Spock, holding up his free hand. "That will not be necessary. The _kra'koi_ will give you the antidote you need, and you will return her to her home."

With that, his eyes closed and he slipped into unconsciousness once more. Uhura let out a desperate sound and clasped his hand to her chest.

"Bones," Kirk ordered, not taking his eyes off Spock. "See if you can get an antidote out of this thing."

McCoy had already found a syringe and was frowning at the vast creature. "I don't know where to –" he began, but then a single vine extended towards him. His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, but he carefully drew some thick, green liquid from inside. "Will you look at that," he murmured. "The hobgoblin has another green-blooded friend."

As soon as he had withdrawn the needle, Kirk heaved a sigh and cast a lingering look over Spock's form. He wanted to remain, to be absolutely sure this was going to work, but there was something too discomfiting about the intensity of the protectiveness he felt. Instead, he resolutely grasped the base of the tree. "Come on," he ordered. "We're taking it back."

*

The orange sun beat down through a twisted red canopy, casting a fire-like glow over everything it touched. Kirk paused on the path. Ahead, Spock was crouched on the ground, his fingers splayed against the trunk of the tree – the _kra'koi_ , Spock had called it – that they had uprooted.

Kirk held back, watching. A memory surfaced in the back of his mind, but this one he knew was his own; fingers much like those but far older reached for him and were positioned carefully on his face. He felt dizzy for a moment, recalling strange sense of what should have been a violation but felt more like intense intimacy.

Before he could consider it any further, his Spock – the younger one – climbed to his feet and acknowledged Kirk's presence with a nod.

"Everything okay?" Kirk asked.

"They have agreed to provide antidotes for anyone in the colony who is currently sick, on condition that they are left in peace."

"We'll have a hard time persuading them to leave the planet," Kirk said ruefully.

"Unnecessary. She tells me that the soil here is perfectly fertile. The _kra'koi_ have been sabotaging anything that the humans plant, but have agreed to cease."

"Huh." Kirk was almost disappointed. "So they'll get to carry on being ridiculously wealthy."

"Until the dilithium deposits run out, but that is many human lifetimes away."

"So they put wealth before their own lives, and their loved ones' lives, and they get rewarded for it. It doesn't seem right, somehow."

"Rewarded, Captain?" It was only a slight incline of the head, but Kirk understood; it really wasn't that fulfilling a life they had, what with all they'd lost.

"Well," said Kirk, beaming. "I think our first mission went all right, all things considered."

"Indeed. I understand you injured several civilians, nearly resulting in an interplanetary incident, had one of your senior officers poisoned, and earned some rather startling bruises yourself."

Kirk laughed and rubbed the sore spot on his jaw. "As I said. All things considered."

"May I suggest you exhibit more restraint in assigning blame in future?"

"Hey," Kirk protested. "I wasn't entirely wrong about that guy. Only a little bit. And he did deserve to get beaten up."

"I am quite sure Starfleet will agree with you," said Spock in a voice that said otherwise.

"Well, I'm not taking that chance," Kirk conceded. "I'm going to go in there and apologize, and explain the deal with these things," he indicated the _kra'koi_. "Hopefully they'll be grateful enough that they'll keep this whole thing quiet."

Spock nodded, a peculiar glint in his eye that could have been amusement, were he prone to such an emotion. "As much as I would enjoy bearing witness to the momentous occasion of your apology," he said, "I find myself in need of rest." With that, he turned to make his way back to the beam-up point.

"Right," said Kirk. "I'll see you back on board. Oh, and Spock?" Spock paused, but did not turn around. "Try not to almost-die again, all right? Working stuff out without my science officer gives me a headache."

There was a pause, then, "Understood, Captain."

Kirk watched him leave, and allowed himself a smile before he went to see to business.

*

"Enter."

Spock's voice was gratifyingly strong; Kirk felt a distinct sense of relief as he admitted himself to the Vulcan's quarters. To his horror, though, he found that Spock was already preparing his report on the mission.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" said Kirk.

"This requires no physical exertion," Spock protested.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Leave it," he said. "It can wait."

"Is there something I can assist you with, Captain?"

"Yes, actually." Kirk stepped inside and waited for the door to close behind him. "Are you sufficiently recovered that I wouldn't be taking horrible advantage by challenging you to that rematch?"

"Provided that being beaten by an invalid would not be too damaging to your self-esteem," Spock replied, inclining his head in a gesture Kirk had come to recognize as teasing. 

"Very well. Get ready to have your ass handed to you on a platter."

"That is not an aspect of the game with which I am familiar, Captain."

Kirk laughed as he flopped into the chair on the opposite side of Spock's desk.

"Jim," he corrected. "Call me Jim."

It was the most curious thing; Spock's lips didn't move, yet Kirk knew, with a certainty that he would never be able to explain to McCoy, that the Vulcan was smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vulcans _do_ lie, and knowing how to do so turns out to be a valuable life skill.

"Is this really necessary?" Kirk wiped a sleeve across his forehead and took deep breaths, trying to steady his heart rate.

"Everyone has to have a full physical after a planet-side mission." Bones deliberately and visibly prepared a hypospray.

"Oh, come on –"

"Even the captain."

Kirk flopped down on the biobed and heaved a sigh. "Where'd you learn to be all stern like that? Is that what they teach you in med school? Year One: jabbing people in the neck, Year Two: how to be surly, Year Three – Ow!"

Bones had given him a particularly vicious – to Kirk's mind – jab in the neck.

"Hey! What is that even for?"

"What do you expect?" Bones grumbled. "Go beaming yourself around the Galaxy, messing with your molecules, it's a wonder you're not split in a thousand pieces."

Kirk rubbed at his neck. "I will be if you keep it up with those hypos."

"Oh, stop your whining. The hobgoblin didn't give me this much trouble, and he was the one who got poisoned! He was a model patient. Silent."

"Thank you, Doctor," came an austere voice from the doorway.

The horrified look that spread over Bones' face was comical. Kirk shot a grin over his shoulder to where Spock stood in the doorway. The Vulcan's expression was neutral, and he stood in his customary pose with his hands clasped behind his back, yet there was something in the way his eyes met Kirk's that gave away his amusement.

"Don't take it as too much of a compliment," Bones grouched. "You may have whined less than this twelve year-old girl here-" Kirk made a face at this – "but you still keep your heart in the wrong place."

Spock took a step into Sickbay. "The fact that my physiology differs from yours," he said evenly, "pleases me no end."

Kirk let out a bark of laughter, and two heads whipped in his direction. Bones looked murderous, and Spock merely lifted one eyebrow.

"You guys want some alone time?" Kirk waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Kirk revised his impression of Bones' expression; it had been positively genteel compared to the one he favored Kirk with now.

Spock, it seemed, didn’t understand the implication. Kirk saw a momentary flicker of confusion cross his face, then a small, dismissive shake of his head, and then he regarded Kirk with his careful mask of impassivity.

"I suspect that would not result in a favorable conclusion, Captain. I merely wished to enquire after your availability."

"Sure, I'm free." Kirk hopped off the bed, ignoring Bones' growl. "Where's the fire?"

"Fire, Captain?"

Kirk sighed. "Never mind. I'm coming."

"Oh no, you don't." Bones grabbed his sleeve.

"It is a matter of quite urgent importance," Spock pressed.

"I'm not falling for that one." Bones rounded on Spock but didn't loosen his grip on Kirk.

"Doctor," Spock responded in a careful but somehow condescending tone, "may I remind you that Vulcans do not lie?"

Bones grumbled something incoherent, but let go of Kirk's sleeve. Kirk shot him an indignant glare as he straightened his clothing, then stalked past him to the door.

Spock fell into step beside him, and they walked in silence until they were out of earshot of Bones. Then Kirk gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Thanks for the rescue," he said.

"I do not know to what you are referring, Captain," Spock replied in his most innocent tone. "There is a communication from Starfleet I wish to discuss with you."

Kirk managed a passable imitation of Spock's raised eyebrow. "So you weren't just getting me out of McCoy's torture chamber?"

That eyebrow crept up towards Spock's hairline. "I would do no such thing."

"'Course not." Kirk grinned and clapped Spock's shoulder, earning himself a reproachful glare.

Kirk's easy confidence faded; it was, after all, entirely possible he had misread the whole thing. He'd noticed of late that he had an uncomfortable tendency to believe what the older Spock had said about their becoming friends. No doubt, he reasoned, just a lingering side effect of having almost lost him on their previous mission. He'd get over it.

"Um…briefing room?" he ventured, not meeting Spock's eyes.

"Your quarters are closer."

Spock sounded as uncomfortable as Kirk felt, and it crossed his mind that it was ridiculous for a man of his age – a starship captain, no less – to be fretting over whether his first officer thought of him as a friend. He briefly considered raising the subject, but by the time the thought occurred they had already reached his quarters and Spock was politely standing to the side, waiting to be admitted.

Probably a good thing, Kirk reasoned as he led Spock inside and took a seat at his desk. He wasn't sure how one went about addressing the fact that someone's older self from another timeline thought they were supposed to be best friends and how weird was that, when they were only just over the wanting-to-kill-each-other phase of their relationship? Not to mention that his Spock – the younger Spock, he corrected himself – wasn't even supposed to know that there _was_ an older version of himself wandering around. Kirk shook his head and barely suppressed a rueful laugh. His life was _weird_.

Realizing that Spock was looking at him expectantly, Kirk fixed his most easygoing smile in place and gestured towards the computer terminal. As Spock brought up the relevant communication, he said, "Captain, relations with the Romulans have been deteriorating."

Kirk frowned. "I thought they'd distanced themselves from Nero's actions?"

"Quite. In fact, they are disputing his existence."

"What?" Kirk stared incredulously at his first officer for a moment, the words, _Do they think a black hole just appeared at the center of Vulcan of its own accord?_ racing indignantly through his head.

Spock's response was to gesture towards the terminal. Kirk's brow creased as he read Uhura's transcript of the communication. It seemed that not only were the Romulans denying Nero's existence, they believed the entire story was a Federation conspiracy and were preparing for all-out war.

“They're recommending extra vigilance in observing the neutral zone,” Kirk summarized. “Well, that kind of goes without saying.”

“Indeed, but any accidental incursion would be seized upon by the Empire -”

Kirk cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Have you met our helmsman? And our navigator, for that matter? Best in the 'fleet, if I do say so myself.”

Spock looked unconvinced. “There have been reports of stand-offs close to the -”

“I can read, Spock.”

Spock dropped his eyes to the desk and waited silently while Kirk continued reading. He knew he had to retain his cool captain demeanor, but it was hard to repress his anger. He had _seen_ Nero, had _watched_ an entire planet full of people get swallowed into oblivion. He cast a surreptitious glance towards Spock, wishing he could tell just how his first officer felt about this. Spock caught his gaze, though, and held it, so Kirk abandoned his pretense.

“Are you okay?” Kirk asked.

Spock got the slightly distant look that meant he was processing something. At last, he said, “The probability that we would inadvertently breach -”

“That's not what I meant,” Kirk sighed. “Doesn't it bother you that they're trying to deny this happened?”

“That would be a human emotion,” Spock replied, a little too breezily. “And their doubt is not entirely illogical. The events that transpired were somewhat improbable.”

“You don't say,” Kirk murmured, but he was still troubled. “If the Romulans are spoiling for war, you don't think any Vulcans would try to provoke them, do you?”

“To what end?”

Kirk shrugged. “Well, revenge, of course.”

“That would be illogical.”

Kirk frowned and watched Spock carefully. His expression was impassive, perhaps too much so. Unless Kirk was imagining things, which, he had to admit, was entirely possible. Still, he couldn't help but remember the violence of the older Spock's emotions, and wonder whether this younger one felt the same turbulence under his cool exterior. There was no way to ask that, of course, so Kirk just leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're passing close to the neutral zone in…"

"Sixteen hours, fifteen point two minutes," Spock supplied.

Unbidden, a smile crossed Kirk's face. "Thanks." He glanced up to meet Spock's gaze, and was surprised to be met by a puzzled frown.

"Forgive me, I have attempted to familiarize myself with the human concept of humor, but I fail to see any in this situation."

Kirk was momentarily flustered, not sure how to explain his fond amusement at Spock's timekeeping, so he changed the subject. "It would probably be a good idea for us to keep the maximum distance we can without going too far off course."

"Indeed. Ensign Chekov is working on a new course now."

Kirk grinned; it was gratifying to know that Spock thought the same way he did.

"All the same," said Kirk, "we should be on alert. I can't imagine the _Enterprise_ is in the Empire's good books."

"I rather suspect not," Spock agreed.

"Don't you wish we'd beamed Nero aboard now?" Kirk was going for a teasing tone, but something in Spock's expression closed off.

"No," he said. "I do not."

Kirk looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. "If that's all," he said, "make sure all of the communications staff are aware that the Romulans have broken Code 2, and then get some rest. We should both be back on the bridge in twelve hours.”

"Agreed."

With a curt nod, Spock rose and departed. The moment the doors swooshed closed behind him, Kirk dropped his head into his hands and wished, not for the first time, that his first officer had come with a manual.

*

Kirk spent a good hour in the gym trying to work his confusion over Spock out of his mind, but the effort only made him think more, and every time he thought about things they became more convoluted.

He'd known the theory about crazy parallel dimensions, of course; they'd covered it at the Academy in the 'crazy stuff you might encounter in space' module. But reading about weirder aspects of quantum theory was entirely different to actually meeting someone from an alternate timeline who had known a much more successful version of himself.

Just thinking of the other him made Kirk order the computer to add more weights. He welcomed the burn in his muscles even as the computer warned him that he was exceeding advisable limits.

An image flickered through his mind, of himself in the captain's chair, sitting back with his legs crossed in a pose he realized he had adopted himself (or had he subconsciously copied it from this memory? How was he supposed to know?). The disturbing part was the feeling that accompanied the image. Esteem would have been understating it, but was as much as he was willing to consider, and it was overlaid with something he couldn't identify, a confusion of grief and joy. He wondered idly how long that version of him had been dead, from the other Spock's point of view, but hurriedly dismissed that thought as confusing and so very weird.

The computer finally called a halt to his workout, and he was left with his mind in even more of a dizzy mess than before he'd started. He shook his head, as though hoping he could physically dislodge the unwelcome intrusion. 

He still had a couple of hours before his shift, but was feeling restless. With nothing else to do, he roamed the halls. It still made him grin, to walk around this ship and realize this was his to command. What may have seemed to others a terrifying responsibility was, to him, intoxicating. The crew would stand to attention when he passed, which he still wasn't used to but found that he enjoyed.

On the way back to his quarters, he passed one of the recreation rooms and paused at the sound of raucous laughter. Cautiously, he peeked inside.

Around a large table, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, Uhura and Spock were playing cards. Kirk did a double take. Yes, Spock really was playing with them. He looked uncomfortable, though, and Uhura was nudging him in a way that suggested his involvement had been her idea. Kirk hovered in the doorway, unsure whether he should pretend not to have noticed them, or join in, or perhaps even rescue Spock. It seemed no one had seen him yet, though, and his curiosity won.

He felt oddly affronted, watching his crew socialize without having invited him. Even as he acknowledged the feeling he knew it to be irrational; of course they would want to wind down without their captain. That didn't stop him from feeling left out, though.

They appeared to be playing for coffee stirrers – Kirk supposed, with a wry smile, that was as good a form of currency as any – and Spock was evidently winning, if the stack in front of him was any guide.

The laughter, it seemed, was aimed at Scotty, who was berating Keenser for peering at his cards and making his sad face.

"Will ye stop that?" Scotty shouted, swatting Keenser on the shoulder. "Yer givin' away me hand! I'll lose if ye keep that up!"

"Seems you can manage that fine by yourself," Sulu observed.

Scotty eyed Sulu's own severely depleted pile of coffee stirrers pointedly. Sulu shrugged and jerked his head towards Spock, who caught the gesture and met it with a raised eyebrow before sliding more of his own coffee stirrers into the center of the table.

"Oy," Chekov sighed. "I'm out."

The hand ended with Spock claiming another pile of coffee stirrers, but looking distinctly bemused.

"I fail to divine the purpose of this pursuit," Spock announced.

"How's that?" Scotty grumbled. "Yer winnin'!"

Spock picked up one of his coffee stirrers and held it between thumb and forefinger, eyeing it closely. The other players exchanged curious looks.

"If what you mean by winning is that I appear to have accumulated the largest number of these, then my point stands. I do not drink coffee, and even if I did these are plentiful."

Uhura laid a hand on his arm, which Kirk couldn't help but notice caused him to tense. "They're just a method of keeping score," she explained.

"To what end? Even humans are capable of performing mental arithmetic."

_Even humans._ Uhura mouthed the words and rolled her eyes, then withdrew her hand and picked up her cards. "Yes," she said, somewhat coldly. "Yes, we are."

"Then if you will excuse me, I shall see what it is the captain wants."

The other players looked up then, startled, and saw Kirk lingering in the doorway. Kirk shrugged and offered them a guilty smile to confirm he had indeed been watching.

"As you were," he said with a grin.

Somewhat uneasily, they turned back to their game, but Spock stood, and the moment his back was turned Kirk caught Uhura shooting an exasperated glance at Scotty, who shrugged in response. Kirk watched them with interest, but as Spock passed him, he turned to follow.

Spock walked in silence for a moment, Kirk a step behind him. Once they had rounded a corner, Kirk caught up and fell into step alongside him. "You're welcome," he said.

That earned him a raised eyebrow. Kirk didn't bother explaining, but said, "I take it you're not a poker fan?"

"It seems a senseless use of time."

Kirk shrugged. "You play chess," he pointed out.

"Is that an invitation, Jim?"

He hadn't intended it as such, but… "Sure," he said with a grin.

They diverted towards Kirk's quarters, and Spock set up the board while Kirk fetched drinks from the replicator. It made him smile to think how quickly this routine had come into being.

"So what makes this more worthwhile than poker?" Kirk asked as he took the first move.

"Exercising one's mental capacities is a logical pursuit," Spock explained.

"Well," Kirk countered, "poker's all about controlling your emotions. I thought that would be right up your alley."

"I will concede that humans are in need of the practice."

Kirk grinned. "Touché."

Still grinning, he captured one of Spock's knights and made a show of beating it down before dragging it off the board. Spock watched this display passively, then swept in to capture Kirk's Queen.

Kirk's face fell, and he ceased beating the carcass of the dead knight. "Damn."

Spock sat back in his chair and took a long sip of his Vulcan tea. Over the rim of the cup, Kirk could see his eyes glint in a smile.

"Smugness is an emotion, Spock," he said in a warning tone as he examined the board. He looked up just in time to see Spock carefully rearrange his features into a blank mask.

"Where did you learn of my preference for Vulcan spiced tea?" Spock asked.

Kirk hesitated for a moment, tempted to goad Spock about the non sequitur, but thought better of it. He took his time over his turn, then sat back in his chair with a shrug.

"You must have told me," he replied. "Isn't that what you always drink when you come here?"

"Indeed," said Spock, inclining his head. "Though I have never requested it."

"Oh." Kirk shifted uncomfortably. "Want me to get you something else?"

"On the contrary, I find it quite agreeable."

Kirk let out a long breath. "Okay." He almost added that he seemed to know lots of things without knowing how lately, but dismissed the thought as ridiculous. It was instinct; that was all. Maybe he'd noticed, subconsciously, that it was the only thing programmed into the replicator with 'Vulcan' in the name.

"I am somewhat surprised,” Spock continued, “all things considered, that my older self found the time to inform you of our beverage preferences."

Kirk almost dropped the chess piece he was holding. "You -- what – you _knew_?" he spluttered.

Spock raised one eyebrow and looked pointedly at the piece Kirk had been about to move. Kirk completed his turn, then muttered darkly, "Bastard _lied_ to me."

"Vulcans do not lie."

It was an automatic response, and so clearly false that Kirk couldn't help but laugh.

"Check," Spock declared, and there was _definitely_ a hint of smugness in those dark eyes.

Yeah, Vulcans didn't lie. Any more than they felt emotion. Kirk opened his mouth to point out that Spock was half-human and that humans lied _all the time_ , but he was suddenly reminded of an image he wished he'd never seen, of Spock materializing on a transporter pad and reaching out to an empty space. Somehow, reminding him of his human heritage didn't seem as funny anymore.

Instead, he extricated his king and explained, "He did the… thing." He placed his fingers along the side of his face in an imitation of the older Spock's mind meld.

Spock's eyes widened. "He…" But he trailed off, shaking his head and clenching his hands in a way that Kirk knew signified discomfort of some sort.

Kirk shrugged, hoping to diffuse whatever had Spock concerned. "It made sense," he said. "He had to tell me all that stuff and still get me back aboard the _Enterprise_ before you took my ship too far away."

For some reason, Spock looked even more troubled. "That was… ill done," he said.

"It was weird," Kirk conceded, "but it's fine." He made a face. "Hang on, why am I defending your own actions to you?"

"The Ambassador is not me," Spock said evenly. "Any more than you are the James T. Kirk he evidently held in high regard."

Kirk felt a leaden weight settle in his stomach. "Right," he said tersely. Then, "Checkmate."

Spock eyed the board carefully, then inclined his head. “Your play is most illogical, yet I cannot dispute the results.”

Ordinarily, this would be Kirk's cue to banter about Spock feeling irritation, or the trouble with relying on unfailing logic, but Kirk found he was suddenly not in the mood.

“We should head to the bridge,” he said instead.

Spock's eyes darted towards him, then narrowed, but his response was an even, “Indeed, Captain.”

They walked in silence to the bridge; Kirk told himself he was just getting his head back into on-duty mode. In all probability, nothing would happen, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

When the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge, Sulu, Chekov and Uhura were already there.

“So, who won after I absconded with the competition?” Kirk asked as he took his seat in the command chair.

Chekov turned around with a grin that spread right across his face. Kirk couldn't help but chuckle.

“Corrupting our youngest officer into the ways of gambling?” Kirk aimed a mock-disapproving look in Sulu's direction.

“If you want to ban him for being underage it would do us all a favor,” Sulu replied, earning himself a swat on the arm from Chekov. “Anyway, it was Scotty's idea.”

“That doesn't surprise me,” said Kirk. He allowed himself a small smile, then consciously shifted his demeanor into Captain mode. “Report?”

“Maintaining one parsec distance from neutral zone,” said Chekov.

“Very good. Mr. Sulu?”

“Currently at warp four, Captain.”

“Nothing on long-range sensors,” Spock added.

“Very well, continue on course.” Kirk settled back in his chair.

He still wasn't quite sure what to do with himself on these shifts. They were in the middle of empty space, the closest potentially menacing area more than three light years away. For a while, he contented himself with watching the stars streak by, but after a couple hours space no longer seemed so inspiring.

He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair, not exactly _hoping_ for something to crop up, but...

"Captain,” Uhura called from behind him. “I'm picking up a distress signal. The _USS Excalibur_ has lost all power and is requesting assistance."

Kirk's fingers froze. He shook his head – it was just a coincidence, he was sure. It would be ridiculous to assume that his boredom could in any way affect -

"Transmit coordinates to Mr. Chekov's station,” he said.

"Transferring now, sir."

"Mr. Chekov, plot a course to intercept the _Excalibur_."

"Aye, sir." Chekov leaned over the console, but then turned around to face Kirk with a frown. "Keptin, their position is inside the neutral zone."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir."

Kirk frowned and sat back in the chair. He realized he had automatically crossed his legs, and self-consciously uncrossed them. This was bad. If they breached the neutral zone, the Romulans would leap on the excuse to attack them. Yet it seemed they had little choice; a ship with who knew how many crew on board was stranded.

"Plot the course," he commanded.

"Aye, sir."

"Mr. Sulu, maximum warp. Yellow alert." He flicked the comm button for a ship-wide broadcast. "All hands to battle stations, ready in ten minutes." 

Kirk saw Sulu and Chekov exchange a glance, and felt the same wariness himself. Instinctively, he looked over to the science station, where Spock was regarding him carefully. He held the gaze for a moment, then dropped it. His legs re-crossed themselves.

Ahead, stars streaked by as they traversed space at hundreds of times the speed of light. The sight now felt ominous. What was a Federation ship doing in the neutral zone, anyway?

Lost in thought, he didn't notice Spock leave his station until the Vulcan was stood beside him. In a lowered voice, Spock said, "Jim, do you recall our earlier conversation?"

"Yes, Commander, quite clearly."

Spock looked momentarily thrown by the use of his title. He assumed his stoic pose, looking straight ahead at the viewscreen, his hands clasped behind his back.

"It is my opinion that Starfleet Command should be notified," he said stiffly.

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, he should have thought of that.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Kirk called over his shoulder. "Open up a subspace channel to Starfleet Command and inform them of the situation."

"Yes, sir," came the dutiful response.

"Thanks," Kirk added under his breath to Spock.

Spock's posture did not change, but his eyes darted towards Kirk.

"Crossing into the neutral zone in three minutes, Captain," Sulu announced. "Do you want to proceed?"

Spock turned his head then, looking directly at him. Kirk tried to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. Acutely aware that Sulu and Chekov were watching them, he said, in as low a voice as he could manage, "We have no choice."

"Agreed. Though…" Spock trailed off, and his eyebrows drew together.

If Kirk had been unnerved before, seeing Spock at a loss brought him close to outright panic. He had to draw on all his training to keep his voice steady as he commanded, "Mr. Sulu, drop out of warp and proceed on impulse power." Then, turning back to Spock, "Just until we get word from Starfleet."

"Keptin." Chekov swiveled around to face Kirk. "This could be a trap."

"I am aware of that, Ensign," said Kirk. At Chekov's wounded expression he realized he had snapped and felt immediately remorseful, but he couldn't afford to worry about that now.

Chekov was right, though, and there was always the possibility that they were being lured to nothing.

After a long and awkward silence, Kirk said, "Mr. Spock, conduct a long-range sensor scan. I want to know what's out there."

Spock nodded and returned to his station.

"Captain," Uhura called for his attention. Kirk turned around, and saw Chekov and Sulu do the same. "Starfleet reports the _Excalibur_ is in this quadrant and that contact attempts have been unsuccessful."

Kirk frowned. That decreased the odds that the whole thing was a hoax. "Thank you Lieutenant. Mr. Spock, report?"

"There is indeed a Federation ship inside the neutral zone, and tracking sensors locate three cloaked Romulan birds of prey."

"Why aren't they firing on the _Excalibur_?" said Sulu.

"Bigger fish to fry," Kirk suggested. "They must have known we were in the quadrant."

"Captain," said Spock, in that careful voice he used when he feared Kirk was about to do something stupid. "If we breach the neutral zone –"

"We'll be blown to smithereens, I get it," Kirk replied testily.

"Captain," said Uhura. "Starfleet Command has responded. Our orders are not to enter the neutral zone, under any circumstances."

Kirk could almost hear the sighs of relief from Sulu and Chekov, but he was incensed. He leapt up from his chair and began pacing the bridge. "They want us to leave an entire shipload of Starfleet personnel stranded in deep space at the mercy of the Romulans?" he fumed.

Spock stood and laid a hand upon his arm. Kirk stopped pacing, momentarily stunned by the gesture.

"Captain," said Spock, meeting Kirk's gaze and holding it. "Starfleet's orders are logical. We are outnumbered and outmatched. The odds of our surviving a battle and rescuing the stranded crew are less than two point four percent."

Kirk wrenched his arm away. "That's two point four percent more than if we sit here and do nothing."

"We should proceed on course to –"

"No." At the heat in Kirk's voice, everyone on the bridge turned to stare at them. "We're staying put until we come up with a plan. Lieutenant," he turned to Uhura, “hail the _Excalibur_.”

A few moments later, the screen flickered to life revealing a harried-looking captain.

“This is Captain Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_ ,” Kirk announced.

“Captain Harris here,” the _Excalibur_ 's CO responded. “Thank God someone heard our message – we're down on power and our subspace communications range is limited -”

“Are you aware that you are inside the neutral zone?” Kirk cut in.

“Very much so.” Harris looked flustered, but Kirk could hardly blame him. “We don't know what happened...”

“There are three cloaked Romulan ships holding position close to your location,” Kirk reported in the most businesslike tone he could muster. “Suggest you do all you can to give the impression your ship is entirely disabled until we get back to you. Kirk out.”

The screen flickered, and then showed only the dark vista of deep space. Kirk paused for a moment, then hit the comm button. “Mr. Scott to the bridge,” he called.

“We won't be able to beam them out at this range,” said Spock, pre-empting Kirk's first plan.

“What do you suggest, then?” Kirk replied testily.

“At this juncture, we have little alternative but to obey Starfleet Command's orders and proceed on our original course.”

“Is that your best offer?”

Spock froze for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk could see that he was flexing his fingers. For a while they just stared at each other, the rest of the bridge drifting into the background.

Then the turbolift doors opened, and the tension was broken. As he turned to greet Scotty, Kirk saw the look that passed between Sulu and Chekov in front of him.

It was not Scotty who had arrived, though, but McCoy. Kirk briefly considered citing regulations about personnel permitted on the bridge, but in truth he was relieved to see his friend so he said nothing.

“What's going on here?” McCoy blustered.

Kirk explained the situation in the most succinct terms he could manage, concluding with, “Spock thinks we should leave them.”

“Pointy-eared -”

Kirk shot him a warning glance, and McCoy broke off but scowled. Spock had evidently heard his name, though; he had sat back down at his station had his back to them, but Kirk caught the very slight, probably involuntary, turn of his head.

“Suggestions?” Kirk asked the bridge at large.

There were lots of uncomfortable glances and shrugs, but no suggestions were forthcoming.

Kirk's mind was racing. There _had_ to be a way out of this. No way was he going to start believing in no-win scenarios now. He'd defeated the Kobayashi Maru by changing the conditions of the test, but how was he supposed to go about re-programming real life?

He looked over at Spock, hoping for inspiration, but he was now engaged in conversation with Uhura. Kirk looked away hurriedly. He felt the most peculiar pang whenever he saw those two together, which he kept reasoning with himself was utterly ridiculous since he really wasn't into Uhura any more. He still noticed her in a casual sort of way, of course, but dammit she was hot and he was only human – and apparently that wasn't her type. So it wasn't jealousy. Probably just residual weirdness from that time he'd seen them kiss on the transporter pad.

When he looked back at McCoy, he saw the doctor was scowling.

“You haven't put a stop to that yet?” McCoy growled under his breath.

Kirk glanced between Spock and McCoy, then shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant as he replied, “Why would I?”

“Fraternization between officers -”

“If it interferes with either of their duties I'll step in.” Kirk dropped himself back into the command chair. “Until then, can we focus?”

“Right,” McCoy sighed, but he shot another venomous glare towards Spock.

The turbolift doors swept open again, this time admitting a harried-looking Scotty.

“Mr. Scott, Chekov,” Kirk ordered. “I want to know if there's any way we can beam that crew out of there.”

Scotty and Chekov bent over the console and were soon engaged in a heated discussion of relativistic quantum field theory and subspace travel that involved much hand waving and occasional exclamations in Russian. After a while, Sulu joined in, and Kirk figured it was probably best to leave them to it.

“Captain,” Spock called over. “A moment?”

Kirk heaved himself to his feet and moved over to the science station, conscious of Uhura's wary gaze. McCoy followed him, apparently lacking anything better to do.

“I have identified a peculiar subspace transmission,” said Spock. “Lieutenant Uhura believes it may be what's blocking the _Excalibur_ 's long-range communications.”

“Isn't that a bit beside the point?” McCoy's voice was heated. “How's that supposed to help us rescue them?”

Kirk held up a hand to silence the doctor. “Originating from the Romulans?” he guessed. Spock nodded, so Kirk continued, “If the Romulans are messing with the _Excalibur_ 's systems, that suggests this is meant to be a trap.” He watched Spock's face carefully as he spoke, looking for signs that they were thinking along the same lines. Spock's lips twitched ever so slightly; Kirk took that as the confirmation he was looking for.

“I see where you're heading,” Kirk grinned, clapping Spock on the shoulder.

McCoy and Uhura exchanged a puzzled look. “Care to enlighten the rest of us?” said McCoy.

Kirk shrugged. “We know they want us to breach the neutral zone to rescue the stranded crew.”

McCoy's eyes darted between Kirk and Spock. “Right,” he said warily. “Hadn't we already guessed that?”

Kirk grinned and looked at Spock. The corners of the Vulcan's eyes were very slightly creased in that expression that was almost but not quite a smile. “And we know – or we're fairly sure – they probably dragged the ship there in the first place, and disabled her.”

“And?” There was an edge of impatience to McCoy's voice now.

Kirk turned to him with his most dazzling smile. “But they don't _know_ we know that.”

“And that helps us how?”

“Dunno yet,” Kirk shrugged.

McCoy threw his hands in the air and turned away. That left Uhura, who was looking at him with a distinctly uneasy expression.

“Keptin,” Chekov called for his attention. Kirk made his way over to the group huddled over the central console, which was now covered with intractable equations.

“I cannae extend the reach o' the transporter this far,” said Scotty. “But if we get a wee bit closer...”

Chekov brought up a diagram on the screen. Kirk frowned at it. “That's no good,” he said. “It's inside the neutral zone.”

“Only just,” Sulu offered.

Kirk shook his head. “We can't cross that line. It's not just ourselves and the _Excalibur_ we'd be risking, we'd give them an excuse for all-out war.”

Spock came over to them and peered over Chekov's shoulder at the diagram. “It is close enough that it would evade detection by all but close-range sensors,” he observed.

Kirk stared at the diagram a little longer. It was a risk, but it was the only option. “Very well,” he said. “Mr. Sulu, proceed at maximum warp. Mr. Scott, do whatever you need to do to get the transporter to work from that distance.”

There was a stunned silence. Then, without a word, Sulu entered their course and announced, “Ready for warp.”

Only when they had jumped to warp speed did Scotty leave, shaking his head all the while.

“Mr. Sulu,” Kirk commanded, “I want you to stop just outside the neutral zone and switch to impulse power.”

There was an interminable silence. At last, Sulu declared, “Dropping out of warp.”

Almost immediately, an impact shook the entire ship. Kirk was thrown against the command chair, his shoulder scraping painfully across the corner and ripping his shirt.

“What's going on?” he called out. “Are we in the neutral zone?”

“Nyet,” Chekov cried.

“Three Romulan ships have decloaked,” Spock reported, and how in the world did he manage to sound so calm?

“All three ships locking weapons on us,” said Chekov.

“Shields at 62 percent,” Sulu added.

“Divert all power to forward shields,” Kirk ordered.

“Phasers locked,” said Chekov. “Should I fire?”

“Negative,” said Kirk. He stared at the screen, where three Romulan birds of prey were bearing down on them.

The ship shook again. Kirk clung onto the chair, and tried to force himself to _think_ , dammit. 

“Shields at 34 percent,” Sulu reported. “We can't take another hit.”

"Dammit, Jim," McCoy cried. "Do something!"

"Any suggestions?" Kirk replied heatedly.

McCoy gave a mirthless laugh and shook his head. "Seems any time you've been here before you've just cheated."

Kirk shot him a glare and turned desperately back to Spock. His first officer was regarding him carefully. "In this instance, changing the conditions of the engagement would appear to be advisable."

That was it. Bones was right – he needed to cheat. There were no Orion women to help him hack the computers this time, but there was _something_ , something elusive and just beyond his grasp. He held Spock's gaze for a moment, urging himself to think harder. He felt like he almost had a plan.... He just wasn't sure what it was.

Frustrated, he started pacing, acutely aware that all eyes were on him. He had something, he knew it; he just had to dig it out of the recesses of his brain....

It came to him suddenly and out of nowhere; he saw himself in almost exactly this position – though, strangely, looking a little older – and at once he knew the answer.

“All right,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice. “You've made your chess move. Now it's time to play poker.”

He winked at Spock, earning a bemused look, then spun on his heel to face Uhura.

“Lieutenant,” he said, “Message to Starfleet Command under Code 2.”

“But Captain -”

Kirk silenced her with a glare.

Uhura stared at him for a moment, but then relented. “Ready, sir.”

Kirk began pacing again as he dictated, “As instructed, abandoning rescue attempt of _USS Excalibur_.” All heads on the bridge turned to him with identical expressions of shock, save for Spock's. Undeterred, Kirk continued, “Pursuant to General Order 25, the _Excalibur_ will activate Corbomite device in ten minutes, destroying all matter within radius of one light second of position previously advised. All Federation ships to avoid dead zone for next five years.”

Uhura frowned and shot a glance towards Spock.

“You have your orders, Lieutenant,” said Kirk. Spock nodded. Uhura looked more confused than ever, but proceeded to relay the message.

When she was done, silence descended on the bridge. Kirk moved back to his chair, and McCoy came to stand beside him. McCoy's stance was rigid, and he kept shooting Kirk puzzled glances. Kirk ignored him, looking intently at the viewscreen.

A moment later, Spock reported, “Romulan ships have gone to warp.”

The collective release of breath on the bridge was audible. Numerous eyes, ranging from the admiring (from Chekov) to the downright accusatory (from McCoy) turned in his direction.

Kirk shrugged under the scrutiny, and though he tried to sound nonchalant a hint of smugness crept into his voice as he explained, “If you don't like the test, change the rules.”

Sulu turned back to his station, laughing and shaking his head. Uhura was frowning in what Kirk decided was reluctant admiration, and Chekov was beaming at him. McCoy just looked suspicious, and Spock vaguely curious.

“Not bad,” Chekov declared at last.

At the nods and murmurs of agreement from the others, Kirk squirmed a little. He felt almost guilty accepting their praise, since he had no idea where that solution had come from. He felt as though he'd seen it somewhere before, only that was impossible, as there was no such thing as a Corbomite device....

Thankfully, their appraisal of his solution was interrupted by the turbolift doors sweeping open to reveal a somewhat disheveled but largely unharmed Scotty.

“Damage report?” Kirk prompted immediately.

“Hull integrity intact,” Scotty reported with a grin. “And transporter ready to receive.”

“Excellent.” Kirk got to his feet and ordered, “Lieutenant Uhura, hail the _Excalibur_ and inform Captain Harris to prepare crew to be beamed aboard.”

Uhura shook her head in disbelief and let out a small laugh before turning around with a, “Yes, sir.”

While she relayed the message, Spock moved to stand beside Kirk. McCoy, on his other side, glared daggers at them both.

“That was something of a gamble,” said Spock, his tone hovering just the right side of disapproving.

“Are you about to inform me that gambles are highly illogical?” Kirk replied.

Spock was silent for a moment, then he said, “Indeed. Nonetheless... somewhat inspired.”

That amounted to gushing praise from Spock, so Kirk accepted it as such with one of his best cocky grins. Privately though, he couldn't help but wish he'd earned Spock's approval for something he'd actually come up with himself.

His train of thought was broken when he noticed that McCoy was casting a calculating look between himself and Spock.

“Problem, Bones?” he said in what he hoped was a breezy tone.

“Not yet,” McCoy replied with a long-suffering sigh.

With that cryptic remark, he excused himself from the bridge, leaving a confused half-Vulcan and a baffled human staring after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ongoing mission of the _USS Enterprise_ under the new captaincy of Captain Kirk. In this part, a distress call takes the _Enterprise_ to Talos IV...

The _Enterprise_ had many fine qualities. In fact, her captain James T. Kirk wouldn't normally hear a word against her.

Nonetheless, the addition of a couple hundred passengers made her feel decidedly small.

He had never appreciated, for instance, just how narrow the corridors were, or how slow the turbolifts – and if he caught one more person stopping the lift between floors while he was waiting, he was having them assigned to permanent laundry duty.

All in all, as thrilled as he was to have been able to rescue the crew of the _Excalibur_ \- and he would confess to some pride at being able to deliver the far more experienced Captain Harris safely to the nearest Starbase – he was even more thrilled to have seen them off.

He grinned all the way to the bridge, dropping into his chair with a dramatic flourish and favoring each of his officers with his most dazzling smile. They all responded in kind – except for Spock, but he quirked an eyebrow in what Kirk decided was his equivalent.

"She's all ours again." Kirk gave a happy sigh and patted the arm of his chair. "Let's take her out."

"Separating from spacedock now, Captain," Sulu confirmed.

"Don't forget the parking brake," said Chekov.

Sulu's response was to lean over and swat him on the arm. Chekov made an indignant noise, and they both laughed.

Kirk watched this exchange, aware that his eyebrows were creeping upwards. By the time he thought to order them to focus on the task at hand, though, they were already back in professional mode, so he let it go.

"Ready for warp," Sulu confirmed.

As they jumped to warp speed, Kirk allowed himself another smile. After a while, he realized Spock was watching him with a curious, and perhaps slightly nervous, expression on his face. Unabashed, Kirk shrugged.

"Doesn't it feel good to be back to normal?" he said.

Spock lifted one eyebrow. "Normal is a relative term, Captain," he said, and turned back to his station.

Uhura let out a low chuckle, and from across the bridge Lieutenant Russ from Engineering joined in.

Kirk tensed, waiting for someone to bark them to order. It was only when he caught Chekov sneaking a glance back towards him that it hit him; _he_ made the rules here, and this was how it was going to be.

"Other people don't think being threatened by crazy aliens is normal?" he addressed the bridge at large, wearing the most innocent expression he could muster.

Sulu snorted. "I'll take that over a diplomatic mission any day."

"Careful what you wish for," said Uhura.

From there, the conversation turned into a discussion of just how many Klingon vessels would need to be firing on them before they'd rather take a dilithium mining treaty mission instead. Eventually even Spock joined in to posit a power-law relationship between the perceived risk of a mission and the dullness of the alternative they would accept. That made Kirk roll his eyes and declare Spock the biggest nerd he had ever met, but he did so with a fond smile.

For the first time since assuming command of the _Enterprise_ , Kirk actually enjoyed a shift that consisted of nothing more than travelling at warp speed through empty space.

They didn't talk constantly, by any means, but light conversation and occasional banter drifted across the bridge, until in no time at all beta shift arrived to relieve them.

Kirk was grinning like a madman when he sauntered into Sickbay. Bones greeted him with his customary scowl.

"What have you done now?" Bones asked, his tone accusing.

Kirk hopped onto a biobed. "Is that how you've been taught to greet your captain?"

Bones snorted. "I still can't believe they gave you a ship."

"Yet you still insisted on being assigned to it."

"Only to keep an eye on you."

"Whatever you say. Anyway, turns out I'm the best captain ever. Or I have the best crew ever. Or possibly both." He jabbed a finger in Bones' direction. "And don't give me that skeptical look."

"That what you came here to tell me?"

"Pretty much." Kirk jumped down from the bed and slapped Bones on the back. "Dinner?"

Bones heaved a long-suffering sigh, but followed him out of Sickbay. When they got to the mess hall, Spock was already there and was sitting alone, so Kirk joined him. Bones scowled at them both, but took the seat beside Kirk.

"I'll say one thing for him," Bones grouched, gesturing towards Spock with his eyes. "At least he eats right."

Kirk glanced between Spock's salad and his own steak, and snorted. "I'm healthy as a horse."

"Fascinating," said Spock. "I seem to recall Doctor McCoy also once compared you to an equine."

Bones choked on his dinner.

"A stallion, if I recall correctly," Spock continued over Bones' indignant splutter.

Kirk hooted with laughter and slapped Bones on the back. Red-faced, Bones glowered at Spock. "You're the one who was on about breaking him."

Kirk leaned back in his seat with a grin. "You two are better than a holovid," he declared, and this time earned scowls from them both.

*

The next morning, Kirk was whistling jubilantly as he made his way to the bridge. There were no emergencies, his crew was awesome, and he was actually looking forward to presiding over an uneventful shift.

His good mood ended the moment he stepped out of the turbolift and sensed the tension on the bridge.

"Captain," Uhura called him over. "I'm picking up a strange signal."

"What is it?"

"I – I don't know." Uhura's face was screwed up in concentration as she worked the controls. "It's –"

"What?" Kirk prompted as she broke off.

"It's not coming through on a subspace channel. It's radio."

"Radio?" Kirk made a face. "Who would be using radio out here?"

"Give me a moment, Captain," said Uhura. "I just need to calibrate…"

Kirk looked over to Spock, intending to ask him to check the scanners, but Spock was already bent over his station doing exactly that. Kirk was left to wait by Uhura, earning himself a scowl when he began drumming his fingers on the back of her chair.

"It's a distress signal," she declared at last. "From the _SS Columbia_?" she frowned and gave Kirk an apologetic shrug. "I've never heard of it."

"That ship went missing more than twenty years ago," said Spock from his station.

"Can you trace the origin of the signal?" Kirk asked him.

"Affirmative." A long pause, then, "Allowing for the signal having travelled at light speed for twenty-two years, I project a point of origin in the Talos system."

"Do we know anything about that system?"

"Very little," Spock replied. "It is as yet unexplored, but is known to have eleven planets. The fourth in the system is Class M."

"There's a chance they could have survived there, then?"

Spock turned around then to look directly at him. His expression may have looked neutral to anyone else, but Kirk caught the slight twitch of an eyebrow and tilt of his head that he knew would translate to a shrug in anyone else.

"For twenty-two years?" Spock said. "The probability of survival is –"

"A ridiculously low number, I know," Kirk cut him off. "I also know you'll agree with me when I say we should go anyway."

Spock's only response was a raised eyebrow, but Kirk took that for assent. He grinned, patted the back of Uhura's chair and returned to his own. "Chekov," he ordered. "Plot a course for Talos IV."

"Course already laid in, sir."

Kirk's grin broadened. "Ahead maximum warp, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, sir."

*

"You are tense," Spock observed during their chess game that evening.

Kirk rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. "Starfleet Command took some convincing that this mission was worth it," he admitted.

"Understandable," said Spock, giving one of his minute shrugs. "Factoring in both the deviation from course and the likelihood of success –"

"Doesn't that bother you, though?" Kirk moved his bishop with more force than was strictly necessary.

"It is –"

"Dammit, don't tell me it's logical," Kirk huffed and rose to get himself another drink from the replicator. "You need more tea?" Spock did not take his eyes off the board, but gave a slight nod.

"So anyway," Kirk continued once he was seated again. "Imagine you got stranded on some rock somewhere. Wouldn't you like to think that if someone got your distress signal they'd, you know, answer? Not think, 'Oh, it's a bit out of my way…'"

"I would hope that they would respond if it was the best use of Starfleet resources," Spock replied.

"Bullshit."

Spock raised an eyebrow, and Kirk could have sworn he saw a hint of a smirk as he made his move. He watched Spock remove his bishop from the board and scowled.

"You ever get stranded somewhere," said Kirk as he considered his next move, "I'm not coming after you."

When Spock did not respond, Kirk sneaked a glance over at him. He was running a finger idly over the rim of his teacup and looked deep in thought.

"It is illogical," Spock said at last. "But I see your point."

"Hey, did I just win?" Kirk clapped his hands and beamed.

Spock fixed him with his level gaze, an eyebrow inching upwards. "I concede that your illogical actions have some merit. However…" Without taking his eyes off Kirk, he moved his knight and pronounced, "Checkmate."

Kirk deflated immediately. "Really?" He examined the board and scowled at his surviving pieces. "I thought my whole 'playing illogically' thing was infallible."

"Your strategy may be illogical at first glance, but you still demonstrate clear patterns in your play."

"Shouldn't have let you get so used to me," Kirk grumbled, though in truth he was struggling to feel any real irritation. "Guess I'll just have to come up with crazier strategies."

"I look forward to breaking them down," Spock said without meeting his eyes.

Kirk felt inexplicably like smiling at the realization that he, too, relished the challenge. He felt dangerously close to saying so, though, so he cleared his throat and sat up straight. "How long 'til we get to Talos?"

Spock's reply was immediate. "Three weeks, two days and six point four hours."

Kirk gaped at the 'three weeks' part and did not hear the rest. "Are you kidding me? Scotty said he'd got us warp seven. I thought that was supposed to be pretty quick?"

Spock gave him that condescending look he used when he knew Kirk was being deliberately obtuse but had decided to humor him anyway. "Warp seven equates to three hundred and forty-three times the speed of light. This fits most definitions of 'pretty quick,' as you put it. Nonetheless, with twenty-two light years to cover…"

"Right, I know," Kirk sighed. "It's just, they never tell you about this bit. In the training vids, everything happens so fast, they make it look like you can just zip from system to system in minutes." He scowled. "I sort of see Komack's point now."

"May I enquire as to how you persuaded him to change his mind?"

"Luckily, it just happens to be on the way to some planet they wanted checked out, so I had to agree to take on some boring science mission. Completely uninhabited, as far as anyone can tell." He made a face to indicate how pointless he felt that rendered the mission. "But lots of rocks. You'll love it, I'm sure "

"The galaxy is a large place," said Spock. "There will be many opportunities for you to be physically assaulted by various lifeforms, as seems to be your preferred activity."

Kirk glared at him, but had to concede the point. "Well, it beats rocks and anything involving dress uniform," he grumbled.

The faintest hint of a smile ghosted across Spock's face. It only really touched his eyes, but Kirk was used to that by now.

*

Kirk thought the weeks were going to pass agonizingly slowly, but in fact he found it refreshing. There was time to build up routine aboard the ship, and he found that he enjoyed the pattern that life fell into, even the long hours on the bridge. He took fencing lessons from Sulu, and while he'd yet to win, he found after the second week that he was no longer embarrassingly hopeless at it. Sulu even pronounced him "not as bad as Pavel." It took a moment for Kirk to realize who Pavel was, in which time Sulu had lunged at him and he had to concede defeat yet again.

Meanwhile, Uhura set up some sort of music society, which provided entertainment for the crew. At first, Spock accompanied them on a Vulcan lyre, but after the first week he stopped participating, citing a lack of enthusiasm for Terran music. Kirk wondered at this but never pressed the matter, as it meant their chess nights increased in frequency. In those weeks, he lost more games than he won, but found he didn't mind too much.

Soon, though, gym sessions were added to the extra chess nights. Kirk was hopelessly outmatched by Spock's Vulcan strength, but enjoyed the sessions nonetheless. Somehow that led to their taking meals together, and Kirk had to wonder when Spock was finding the time to spend with Uhura. Though Spock and Uhura still acted perfectly friendly on the bridge, he reasoned to himself, so there was obviously no problem.

Scotty was the only one who seemed not to enjoy the break. He fretted daily about the warp drive being pushed for such an extended period, and spent most of his time down in Engineering, where Kirk guessed he was singing Scottish lullabies to the engines in an attempt to soothe them.

Still, everyone was pleased when they finally came into orbit above Talos IV, for as welcome as the respite may have been to most, they all spoiled for action.

"Assuming standard orbit now," Sulu declared.

There was a collective intake of breath and all eyes turned to Spock, who was bent over the scanner. An interminable silence followed. Kirk began to dread having to make a groveling apology to Komack for wasting time on a wild goose chase, and resolved to insist that it had still been worth it.

Finally, Spock sat back and looked around at him. There was disbelief on his face, marked only by parted lips and a slight crease to his brow. The rest of the bridge crew looked crestfallen, but Kirk grinned, knowing what was coming.

"Sensors record human life signs," Spock announced. "I have transmitted the coordinates to the transporter room."

There was a further moment of silence, then a spontaneous round of applause that Kirk was fairly sure started with Chekov.

Kirk leapt up from his chair and clapped his hands. "All right," he said, and the applause died down as everyone came to attention. "Sulu, Chekov, transporter room in five minutes." He turned to Uhura. "Have Dr. McCoy meet us there. Mr. Scott, you have the conn."

He met Spock's eyes before turning for the turbolift, leaving Sulu and Chekov to hand over their stations. He waited inside the lift, holding the doors open until Spock joined him.

Spock stood beside him, his hands clasped behind his back, and was silent until the doors closed. Once they were alone, his eyebrows drew together and he took a breath as though about to say something, then evidently thought better of it and fixed his gaze on the opposite wall of the lift.

"Problem?" Kirk prompted.

Spock's eyes flickered towards him. "As First Officer," he said evenly, "I believe it is my duty to remind you of regulations regarding your inclusion in the landing party."

Kirk fought back a grin and stared at the ceiling. "And you know I'll just ignore you, right?"

"Indeed."

Kirk laughed. "Are we going to have this conversation before every away mission?"

"The probability is extremely high."

The turbolift doors opened, and two passing ensigns were greeted by the sight of their captain laying a hand on the first officer's arm with a decidedly fond smile.

Spock stiffened, and they walked to the transporter room in silence. Bones was waiting for them, eyeing the transporter pad with suspicion. Kirk grinned and slapped him on the back. "Ready to have your molecules disassembled?"

Bones glowered at him. For some reason, this only caused Kirk's grin to broaden.

Momentarily, they were joined by Sulu and Chekov, the former looking as wary as the latter was eager.

"Hikaru thinks there are not being any survivors," said Chekov said of the helmsman's disposition.

Sulu scowled at Chekov and explained, "Uhura tried to hail them, but –"

"They are only hawing old radios," Chekov cut in.

Kirk got the distinct impression they'd had this argument before, and had to hide his amusement. "We'll soon find out, and we're going to try nonetheless. Long odds are still odds, Mr. Sulu."

"Of course, sir."

With no small amount of trepidation, Kirk took his place on the transporter pad and waited for the others to join him before giving the command, "Energize."

*

The planet's surface was rocky and barren. The sun on his back was hot, but not oppressively so, and the air was dry. There was an odd hum in the air, like distant music, but no signs of life.

Spock examined his tricorder and led them off over some rocks. They had walked for no more than a few minutes when Sulu called, "Captain!"

Kirk halted in his tracks. Sulu had found a plant of some description, with flattened blue flowers. Kirk exchanged a look with Spock and made his way over cautiously.

"Careful," he said. "We haven't had great luck with alien plants."

Sulu just grinned and took hold of one of the blue flowers. "Hear that?"

Kirk frowned. The strange hum he had heard was quieter now. Sulu held another flower still, and Chekov reached around him to help. When all the flowers were restrained, the sound ceased entirely, and an eerie silence stretched out around them. Sulu looked enthralled, but Kirk was thoroughly creeped out.

"I am not seeing singing plants before," Chekov piped up.

Kirk eyed the plant suspiciously. "Let's move on," he said.

He wasn't sure what he expected to see. Spock may have recorded human life signs, but the idea of any crew surviving in this barren wasteland for twenty-two years was unthinkable. So when they rounded a corner and saw a decidedly human camp, and heard human voices speaking in English, Kirk froze.

It was the strangest thing. He hadn't thought to find anything like this here, but if he had considered it, then what was before him was exactly what he would have pictured as a survivors' camp.

There were makeshift shelters fashioned from parts of a broken-up ship, arranged in an approximate circle. In the center was the remains of a bonfire, surrounded by stones. The human occupants of the encampment were dressed in tattered remnants of old-fashioned clothing.

Kirk approached the camp cautiously, the others a pace behind him, and Spock staying particularly close. One by one, the survivors noticed them, and stopped what they were doing to stare openly.

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then, at last, an elderly man cried, "Humans! Can it really be?"

Then there was a cacophony of exclamations and cries of delight as they hugged each other and ran towards their rescuers.

Kirk felt numb, as though he were watching someone else approach the camp. He could think of nothing to say. When he reached the edge of the encampment, he stopped. Spock drew level with him, still examining his tricorder intently. Bones was shaking his head in disbelief, and Chekov was grinning.

The man who had spoken first approached them, wonder and incredulity on his face. "Are you…?"

"From Earth, yes," said Bones when Kirk could not form a response. Bones shot a look towards Spock. "Most of us, anyway."

"Then you got our message? It's been so long…"

"By Earth count, twenty-two years, one month and an uncertain number of days," Spock filled in.

For some reason, that snapped Kirk to attention. He smiled and shot Spock an amused glance before turning to the man in front of him. "Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_ ," he introduced himself. "This is First Officer Mr. Spock, Chief Medical Officer Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov. How do you feel about going home?"

A cheer went up around the camp, and they were beckoned into the center to meet everyone. Bones went to work right away, scanning everyone with his tricorder and muttering to himself.

After only a few minutes, Sulu approached him. "Permission to go and study those plants, Captain?"

Kirk fought the urge to squirm. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about those plants made him uneasy. "I don't know," he hedged. "I'm not sure I trust anything that sings if we can't see where it keeps its brain."

"Captain," Spock interjected, "the sound you heard is merely the breeze passing over the plant's surface. According to my readings, they should be quite harmless." At Kirk's frown, he added, "I would like to take further readings of the planet's surface, so I could accompany the lieutenant."

"Fine," said Kirk with a sigh. As an afterthought, he added to Sulu. "But don't eat it." Sulu shot him an exasperated look. "And stay in regular contact."

"Aye, sir."

As Sulu and Spock wandered off, Kirk watched them go, gnawing nervously on his lip.

"They're fine, Jim," Bones assured him from where he was scanning someone nearby. "And cataloguing new life is supposed to be what we're about."

"Maybe I should call a couple of the science department down?" Kirk mused.

"Hikaru is a very keen botanist," said Chekov, taking Kirk by surprise.

"Really?" Kirk wasn't sure whether he was more surprised that he didn't know that, or that Chekov did.

He was soon distracted, though, when he was drawn back into a conversation about progress on Earth. The _Columbia_ had left Earth before he was even born, he realized, feeling increasing respect for these people who had survived with dignity for so long.

Eventually, Bones completed his rounds and pulled Kirk aside.

"Well?" Kirk prompted when Bones did not immediately give his report.

Bones shook his head. "I can't explain it, Jim," he said. "They're all perfectly healthy."

"That's a good thing, right?"

Bones shrugged. "I guess, but…" he frowned and looked around. "Have you seen this place? Barren as anything. How'd they do it?"

"Does it matter?" Kirk replied with a shrug. "What matters is they're alive, we get to play hero and take them home, and Komack will have to agree I was right to insist we come here."

Bones scowled at that, but then he was always scowling, so Kirk just clapped him on the arm and said, "Come on, let's get everyone together and beam up. Where's Chekov?"

"Over there." Bones jerked his head towards the other side of the camp. "Talking to some girl, last I saw him."

"Girl?" Kirk looked around curiously; all he'd seen were aging scientists.

"Yeah, Vina, she said her name was. Born here, poor thing."

Unable to see Chekov, Kirk reached for his communicator. "Kirk to Chekov," he called. "Location?"

There was no response. "Chekov," Kirk repeated. "Report."

Still nothing. Kirk and Bones exchanged a worried glance. "Mr. Spock?" Kirk tried next. "Lieutenant Sulu?"

"Captain!" Sulu's voice came not from his communicator but from behind him. Kirk turned around to see Sulu jogging towards them. "It's Spock," he panted. "He just…" he made a vague gesture with his hands. "He vanished."

The leaden weight of panic settled in Kirk's gut. "Vanished? How?"

Sulu shook his head, apparently struggling to find words to explain. "He was there, right next to me," he said. "And then he…wasn't."

Kirk flipped open his communicator again. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

" _Mr. Scott here, Captain_."

"Scotty, can you locate Mr. Spock and Ensign Chekov?"

A pause that seemed to drag on forever, then there came a hesitant, " _Negative, sir_."

Feeling desperate, Kirk turned back to the camp to question the _Columbia_ crew, but just then they disappeared into thin air. No trace of the camp was left, just an expanse of dry sand and barren rocks.

"What the…" Kirk gasped at the empty space before them.

"Jim," said Bones carefully. "I don't know about you, but I'm starting to suspect this may have been a set-up."

Kirk snorted. "No shit, Sherlock."

"This way," said Sulu. "Spock and I were about to show you this when it happened… I might know where they are."

Kirk and McCoy followed Sulu back to where he had been examining exotic plants. He pointed up at a large rock face. Kirk thought it looked unremarkable at first glance, but then he squinted and saw something like a doorway carved into the rock. There seemed to be a pathway leading up to it. Drawing his phaser, he ran towards it and gestured for the others to follow.

The doorway was, predictably, sealed. Kirk tried a few running leaps at it before Bones hauled him away, muttering about doing himself an injury. Kirk stepped back, rubbing at his shoulder through his torn shirt.

Next, Sulu suggested firing on it, so they moved back to the ground below and Kirk aimed his phaser at the doorway. Nothing happened. They tried firing all three phasers at once. Again, nothing happened.

Kirk scowled at the offending rock. "It makes no sense," he complained. "That much energy should have brought the whole thing down."

"Unless…" said Sulu.

But Kirk didn't get to hear the rest of Sulu's thought, because the scene before him suddenly swam, and then vanished.

*

Kirk spun around a few times, seeing his surroundings but too disoriented to take them in. Then he saw Spock, and he paused and took a deep breath.

"Thank God," he said. "You're alive."

Spock gave a minute frown that told Kirk he was refraining from pointing out that his continued existence owed little to any deity, then his eyes flickered to the side. Kirk turned, and staggered.

For the first time, he saw that they were in a cage, fronted by a transparent panel through which he could see three aliens. They appeared essentially humanoid, but so pale as to be almost translucent, and with grotesquely enlarged heads laced with pulsating veins.

Kirk lunged for the front of the cage, throwing his entire weight against the panel. It did not give; he was thrown back and landed firmly on his ass.

_Interesting_ , said a voice that had to come from one of the aliens, though none of their lips moved. _This one is more primitive than the other. See how it immediately rushes to demonstrate its physical prowess_.

Kirk hauled himself to his feet, chagrined but puzzled. He looked between Spock and the aliens.

_Witness the confusion as it hears our thoughts_ , the voice continued.

"Why did you bring him here?" Spock demanded of them.

_We read in your mind that you desired this one's company_ , came the voiceless response. _We wish all our specimens to be content in their new lives_.

For some reason, Spock was agitated by this. He began clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back, and spoke through gritted teeth as he said, "Let him and the ship go, and I will stay."

"Spock," Kirk scoffed. "Don't pull that noble martyr crap. Now, you want to fill me in?"

"I believe the situation is self-explanatory," said Spock, not meeting Kirk's eyes. "We are in some sort of menagerie, held captive by a telepathic race which possesses the power of illusion."

"Right, I got that much." Kirk darted a nervous look towards the Talosians, who were watching Spock carefully.

_The one with the pointed ears fancies himself quite intelligent_ , said one voice in his head.

_Yet his ship was lured here so easily by our simulated transmission_ , added another.

"So that was faked, then," said Kirk, turning on them. "There were no survivors from the _Columbia_?"

They did not respond. Kirk sighed and reached for his phaser.

"You will find your phaser depleted of charge," said Spock.

"It was charged when we – oh." Spock was right, his phaser was useless. His communicator, too, proved ineffective. "What now, then? What do they want with us?"

"Unknown," said Spock. "So far they have done little but insult my intelligence. They seem quite amused by your more emotional reactions."

Kirk glared at Spock, then at the Talosians.

_These two are most captivating_ , one of them said in his mind. _I believe we are ready to begin_.

"Begin what?" Kirk demanded.

_The pointed-eared one has a strong emotional attachment to this place. We shall start here._

Kirk opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but then the Talosians disappeared, the whole cage began to flicker, and suddenly he was somewhere else.

The landscape was red and arid, desert sands beneath his feet and a scorching sun overhead. They were high on a hill, and in the valley beneath them lay a large ringed city. A sister planet hung over the horizon like a vast moon.

Spock was by his side, staring wide-eyed at his surroundings. It took Kirk a moment to orient himself, but then everything fell into place and he had no need to ask where they were.

"I never saw Vulcan," Kirk said quietly. "I mean, before –"

Spock did not respond at first, but Kirk could see that he was struggling to keep hold of his neutral expression. Kirk took a step closer, reached out to lay a hand on Spock's arm, but thought better of it and clasped his hands behind his back in imitation of Spock's pose.

"This is an illusion," Spock stated, though whether to Kirk or to himself Kirk couldn’t be sure.

"Looks pretty real," Kirk remarked, turning around to look at their surroundings. "I can even feel the heat of the sun."

Spock regarded him carefully. "The atmosphere on Vulcan is – was – thinner than on Earth. I am curious to know whether they are able to replicate the effects of that."

Kirk laughed. "Ever the scientist, eh?" He was breathing rather heavily, though, but perhaps that was only because Spock had pointed it out.

Spock looked away, turning his attention to the city beneath them. "Every detail," he murmured to himself.

Kirk fidgeted, suddenly awkward. He had no idea what the appropriate etiquette was for when you were inexplicably transported to an exact replica of your friend's recently destroyed planet.

"Want to show me around?" he tried.

Spock turned to face him, his eyes narrowed. Kirk looked away; apparently that wasn't the correct response, then.

"What do you think they want from us?" he tried instead.

"I have formulated a number of theories," Spock replied. "The currently prevailing one is that we are here for their amusement."

"So they just want to see how we act?"

"Presumably."

"Okay." Kirk picked a rock and sat down. "So we just don't play."

Spock nodded, and looked as though he was moving to join him, but suddenly Kirk's head felt as though it was being split in two. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip against the onslaught of lancing pain.

It spread like fire through his body, as though his blood were boiling in his veins. In his head he was screaming, though whether he gave voice to it he couldn't have said.

Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the pain vanished. Kirk opened his eyes to find he was kneeling in the sand. Spock, who was kneeling before him, hastily dropped Kirk's hand and got to his feet.

Kirk hoisted himself back up onto the rock and rubbed at his temples. "Ow," he said.

Spock frowned and took a step towards him, then halted and looked away. "I would surmise that the Talosians are using pain as a motivator."

"Ya think?"

Spock's hands clenched. "That is the city of ShiKahr," he said. "You may see where I was raised."

Kirk clambered to his feet. "We're playing along, then?"

Spock's eyes flickered to Kirk's for a moment, then he led the way down into the valley.

Vulcan, Kirk decided as they walked, was a lot like its people. Or rather, like the image they tried to project: hot in temperature, but cold in temperament. The architecture was large and grand, but forbidding and unadorned with decoration.

There was no one else in sight, which was perhaps to be expected given that this was an illusion. It was hard to believe it wasn't real though, so finely detailed were their surroundings. It felt real, too; he could touch the buildings, even feel the dry heat of the air.

Kirk stopped before one of the more domineering buildings. "I feel like I've seen that before," he said.

"That is the Vulcan Science Academy," Spock explained, coming to stand beside him.

"Oh. I guess I must have seen a holo or something." Kirk sounded unconvincing even to his own ears, but Spock didn't press the matter.

They continued along wide streets that became progressively narrower. Spock explained that they were coming into the Old Quarter and pointed out some of the tourist attractions. Kirk listened with rapt attention, painfully aware that none of this was real yet simultaneously thrilled to have a chance to see this lost world.

There was something exciting about seeing Spock's home, too. He had never imagined Spock as a child, but when he pointed out his school – a peculiar building that hung like a vast stalactite above them – he was suddenly filled with questions. He voiced some of them and, though hesitant, Spock demonstrated uncharacteristic patience with him.

"Vulcan schooling is quite different to that which I witnessed on Earth," Spock explained. "The teaching is tailored individually to each child, whereas Humans opt for group instruction."

"You're on your own? Sounds a bit boring."

Spock raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the school. "On the contrary, most educational theorists concur that –"

"I don't care about that," Kirk interrupted. "What was it like?" Spock looked as though he didn't understand the question, so Kirk tried again. "What about the other kids? Are all Vulcan kids chess club nerds or do you have jocks and get into fights?" He hurriedly bit back the amusement that image provoked.

Spock hesitated before replying, and did not meet his eyes. "I had little to do with the Vulcan children."

It took Kirk a moment to realize that Spock had phrased his response in such a way as to exclude himself from the group of Vulcan children. He mentally kicked himself and rushed to change the subject. "Where'd you learn to play chess?"

Spock looked at him and inclined his head. "I instructed myself," he said as though that ought to be obvious.

"Of course you did," Kirk murmured with a smile.

They continued down another street, with Spock giving occasional commentary. Kirk found he was enjoying himself so much that he had to constantly remind himself that they were really in a prison.

They came at last to a large house, built of the same sand-colored stone as the rest of the city, but with one side composed of glass in geometric shapes.

"This was the house of Sarek," said Spock.

Kirk let out a low whistle. "Fancy," he said.

Spock gave him a odd look, and led him inside. The doors were open, and Kirk pretended not to notice that Spock looked around as though expecting to find someone inside.

The house was large and spacious, all elegant lines and swooping curves. Up close, Kirk saw that the windows were more ornate than they appeared from outside. He wondered idly whether this house bore the influence of Spock's human mother, or whether Vulcans were simply less detached than they appeared.

"Nice place," he remarked. He hadn't appreciated how important Spock's family had been on Vulcan, and only then recalled that his father was the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. He recalled little of Sarek from the Vulcan's time on the _Enterprise_. Certainly Kirk had been somewhat distracted at the time, but also, he reflected wryly, he had been far less interested in Spock's personal life then than he was now.

Spock was standing by the large window, looking out onto a terrace. Kirk watched him for a moment. He was perfectly still, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, a statuesque silhouette against the bright sun outside.

Kirk approached him slowly and stood by his side, their arms brushing together. Spock tensed slightly, but then relaxed and did not move away. Smiling inwardly at the small victory, Kirk followed his gaze out onto the terrace, wondering what he was recalling. He tried to imagine how he would feel in Spock's position, but drew a complete blank.

At length, Spock broke the silence. "There is much to see on Vulcan," he said. "The volcanoes and some of the ancient ruins in particular attract many visitors. Perhaps you would prefer to see these things."

"Not really," said Kirk. At Spock's questioning eyebrow, he added, "I kind of like seeing where you came from, actually. What was she like?"

An uncertain look flashed across Spock's face, but he didn't pretend to misunderstand. "She had a fondness for a Terran author named Lewis Carroll. I recall a tale involving a white rabbit, which she would read to me out there." He indicated the terrace. "It was most illogical."

"Yeah," Kirk agreed with a laugh. "That one's about as illogical as they get, in fact."

"I had little appreciation for it at the time," Spock admitted.

"She must have had some sense of humor, to pick that book, here of all places."

"The Human concept of humor is not something I –"

"Bullshit," Kirk interrupted. "You inherited hers, I'll bet."

Despite having known for some time that Spock's mother was human, Kirk had never really stopped to consider what it must have been like for a human woman to be married to a Vulcan, and to live here amongst the most repressed race in the galaxy.

Spock wasn't so bad, of course, but Spock was half human. He had that cold veneer, but it was only a mask for his human traits, and coaxing out glimpses of that emotional human side was a constant thrill. He tried to imagine Spock without that side, an aloof Vulcan to the core, and shuddered. His mother must have been a remarkable and brave woman indeed.

When his thoughts returned to the present, he realized Spock was watching him. He shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"I never apologized for that stuff I said," Kirk began, looking out of the window.

"That is unnecessary. It is evident that your aim was for me to resign command, and I cannot dispute the results of that."

"Still." Kirk darted a gaze towards Spock, then hurriedly looked away again. "It was out of line. I'm sorry."

Spock looked away. Had he not known better, Kirk would have wondered if he'd heard.

"It's hot here," Kirk remarked, a little too loudly in his attempt to lighten the mood. "You guys don't have A/C?"

It took a moment for Spock to reply, but when he did his voice was even, as though nothing unusual had transpired. "The temperature is at a comfortable level for a Vulcan. Nonetheless, there are environmental controls if you are unable to –"

"No, it's fine," Kirk lied. "Seriously, this is normal to you?" Spock inclined his head. "Wow. The _Enterprise_ must be like living in a fridge."

Spock made that shrugging gesture with his eyes. "It is frequently uncomfortable, but I am – was – adjusting to it."

Kirk frowned at Spock's correction. "We will get back, you know."

"How?"

"The others will be looking for us," Kirk declared with confidence. He was right, he knew it, they just –

Suddenly, the surroundings began to fade from view. He instinctively reached for Spock, and the next thing he knew, they were back in their cage, and he was grasping Spock's forearm. He dropped it abruptly and stepped away, glaring at the Talosians.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "Did you get what you wanted?"

_This one is interesting_ , said an alien voice in his head. _It lacks some of the intelligence of the other human, but demonstrates remarkable compassion_.

"Wait." Kirk's head snapped up at that. "Other human? You have Chekov too? Where is he?"

_The one you call Chekov has been selected to repopulate your species on this planet. He is quite well_.

Repopulate? Kirk stared at them, dumbly. "And what about McCoy and Sulu?"

_They were not required at this time, and have returned to your ship_.

Kirk's mind was racing. Part of him sincerely hoped Scotty would have the sense to get the _Enterprise_ out of there, though another part of him was terrified by the thought that he might do just that.

Spock spoke up then, for the first time since they had returned from Vulcan. "You speak of repopulating," he said, his voice as calm as ever. "Then you also have a human female?"

_A female was the sole survivor of the vessel that crashed here. We have long sought a mate for her, as the species shows great promise._

"Great promise for what?" Kirk yelled, banging his fists against the front of the cage.

The Talosians backed away as though frightened. Kirk took a step back and looked over at Spock, who had cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"Why were you unable to anticipate his movements?" Spock enquired. "If you are reading our minds."

There was no response, but Kirk shot a satisfied smirk over to Spock. They were onto something, then.

_Magistrate_ , said one of the voices. _There are other human females on board the ship currently orbiting our planet. Perhaps this one would make a good secondary candidate for repopulation._

"No!" Kirk roared. "You leave my crew alone!"

Again, they looked at him in surprise.

_I read one particular female in its thoughts_ , said one of the voices, and dammit Kirk wished he could tell which one was speaking – hearing their voices in his head was far too weird. _She has been the subject of many of its fantasies, though such thoughts seem to be insincere._

Kirk felt his face heat. He cast a surreptitious glance towards Spock, whose eyebrow was raised in something approximating amusement.

_She will do._

Kirk opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly he felt himself being whisked away again, and before he could speak he was in a familiar bar back in Iowa.

"Dammit," he snapped. "Will you stop doing that?"

Unlike Vulcan, the bar was full of people, but no one acknowledged him; he seemed, for all intents and purposes, invisible. Except to one person, who was standing at the bar beside him, looking around in bemusement.

"This is an illusion," Uhura said.

"Yep," Kirk sighed. "So you're Eve, huh?"

Uhura glared at him. "What?"

He held up his hands and shrugged. "Hey, not my doing. How'd you work out we're not really in Iowa, anyway?"

She rolled her eyes. "The camp was an illusion. It didn't take a genius to work that out."

"Looked pretty damn real," Kirk grumbled.

"So where are we really?"

"Some sort of cage. We're like a zoo or a theatre or something to them. They also have Chekov." He bit his lip and looked at the floor. "And Spock."

"And 'they' are?"

"Really freaky aliens with giant heads."

She almost smiled at that, but just as quickly it was replaced with a frown. "We worked out that they must be telepaths of some sort," she explained. "Able to create illusions out of thoughts, memories and so on. McCoy and Sulu both said the camp looked exactly as they would have expected."

Kirk nodded. "Logical," he said.

She did smile at that. "We tried everything. We fired phasers, even turned the whole ship's power on the place."

"Seriously? And it didn't give?"

Uhura shrugged. "Maybe. How would we know, if they can keep us from seeing it?" She looked as though she was going to continue, but then grimaced and clutched her head.

"Shit," said Kirk. He led her over to an empty table and sat her down. "You've gotta play the game," he explained when she opened her eyes. "Or they do that."

"And what is the game?" she asked between clenched teeth, rubbing her head.

"They said something about repopulation," Kirk explained, slumping into the chair opposite her, "so I reckon I have to think really hard about having sex with you. Just so the aliens don't hurt you, you understand…"

Uhura shot him a look that would have cowed a Klingon. "You're an ass."

Kirk assumed his most innocent expression and held up his hands. "Hey, I didn't make the rules," he protested.

"Why did they take you, anyway?" Uhura asked, "And not McCoy or Sulu?"

Kirk glanced nervously at her head, waiting for her to double over in pain again.

"Go on," she insisted. "I can deal. We won't work out how to get out of this unless we figure out what they want."

Kirk shrugged, but continued to eye her nervously as he replied, "Beats me. They said they read in Spock's mind that he wanted my company or something." Suddenly, he felt inexplicably awkward, and hastily added, "Not to repopulate anything. Just… I don't know, actually."

"Interesting," she said distantly, her brow creased in thought.

She sounded more contemplative than annoyed, but Kirk still gave a nervous laugh and felt the absurd urge to try to excuse whatever it was in Spock's mind the Talosians had picked up on. Unable to think of anything to say, he settled for, "Huh?"

"Well, they've got us in some sort of zoo, either for study or entertainment."

"Right," Kirk prompted when she didn't seem as though she was going to continue.

Uhura hesitated before continuing, "But it seems they care about their…specimens, or whatever. They know we need company, so they brought you in for Spock."

Kirk gave her a blank look. "So?"

"So they're _not_ entirely evil. Or they don't mean to be." She sounded oddly triumphant.

"They still have us in a cage against our will," Kirk pointed out with a wry laugh. "And do I need to remind you of the mind control?"

"It's not bad, as mind control goes," said Uhura with a shrug, indicating the perfectly replicated bar.

"Yeah, it's a holiday all right. Minor detail of the whole punishment thing."

"I said they didn't _mean_ to be evil," said Uhura. "We've had zoos on Earth for centuries, and we're not innocent of using pain to motivate animals, either."

"So we're animals now?"

"To them, perhaps."

Kirk shook his head with a mirthless laugh, growing irritated by Uhura's confident demeanor. "And this helps how?"

Uhura grinned. "Because contrary to whatever you might believe, we weren't up there sobbing and flailing wildly when you got taken. We came up with a plan, and now I think it might just work."

"Whose plan is it?"

Uhura leaned back and crossed her legs. "Mine," she said, then shrugged. "And Scotty's."

"So what do we need to do?"

"Nothing. Scotty will sort us out. We were in the middle of it when we were rudely interrupted." She glared at him, as though it was his fault or something. "Just…maybe talk about something else?" She winced and rubbed at her temples.

Kirk grimaced, remembering, and said hurriedly, "Uh, I'm thinking really, really hard about, you know, repopulating. With you. Yeah."

She laughed and shook her head. "No way am I raising any kids of yours."

"Hey! Our kids would be smart and beautiful."

She snorted. "Not to mention arrogant, reckless…"

"Stuck-up," he shot back.

"Smarmy."

"See," Kirk threw up his hands in mock exasperation, "and I was being nice and everything."

Uhura shook her head in disbelief and looked away.

"All right," Kirk conceded. "So I did get two of my crew captured. Including my first officer, which is kind of a no-no. And then got captured myself, which is a bit sucky. And then dragged you into it." He frowned. "I had a point, I'm sure. There was definitely a 'but' in there somewhere."

Uhura was looking at him curiously. He fidgeted under her scrutiny.

"And okay," he said, "Spock may have been right about the whole not-sending-us-both-on-away-missions thing. Maybe."

Uhura huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "I can't believe I'm going to say this," she said, shaking her head, "but give yourself a break."

"Huh?"

"I still think you're a bit of a moron. With all due respect, _Captain_. But only because you have years of being a moron to make up for. As captains go, you're…not bad."

Kirk's eyebrows shot up – he was too surprised to even berate her for her insubordination. "Even though I landed us here?"

"Would you rather be the kind of captain who ignores distress calls?"

He grinned and settled back in his chair. "So I'm awesome, huh?"

Uhura glowered at him. "Don't let that go to your head, it's big enough as it is."

Kirk sputtered indignantly, but before he could form a response their surroundings faded away, the darkness of the bar morphing into the bright, sterile cage.

"Oh, for –" Kirk began, but then his eyes widened. "Spock!" He rushed over to his first officer and grasped his arm, unthinking, before quickly stepping away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Uhura watching him. "And Chekov!" he breathed when he saw the young ensign. With Chekov was a young blonde girl he had not seen before.

"This is Vina," Chekov introduced her. "See, someone from thee _Columbia_ was being here after all!"

She stepped forward and offered him a shy smile. Kirk nodded a greeting and then turned to the Talosians.

"Well? What are you up to this time?"

_We have received a most troubling transmission from your ship_.

Kirk felt his stomach plummet, but when he glanced at Uhura he saw she was smiling.

_It seems your species is most unsuitable for our purposes_ , another voice said. _You are free to go_. With that, they turned away.

Kirk felt oddly deflated at that. "What?" he called after them. "That's it?"

One of the aliens turned back to face them. _Our race was all but wiped out long ago when our mastery of illusion overtook reality._

Kirk rolled his eyes. "You can spare us the monologuing."

_Very well. Then know only that your species was our last hope of reclaiming this planet. In allowing you to leave, we are condemning our species to death. I hope you will consider this sufficient recompense for any inconvenience you have suffered_.

The last Talosian turned away, leaving Kirk uncharacteristically speechless.

"Captain," said Spock. "Our communicators appear to be functional."

Snapping abruptly back to the present, Kirk flipped his open and breathed a sigh of relief. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

" _Scotty here_ ," came the welcome response.

"Good work," said Kirk. "Five to beam up."

"Wait," Vina interjected. "I can't go with you."

"What?" said Chekov.

Vina turned pleading eyes on Kirk. "Perhaps," she said, "you will allow me a moment alone with him to explain."

"No chance," said Kirk. "We're getting out of here."

"But Keptin…" Chekov pleaded.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Fine. Scotty, three to beam up. Give Chekov one minute. One minute _precisely_ , then beam him up whether he wants it or not. Understood?"

"Aye, Cap'n."

Moments later, the cage was flickering out of focus and being replaced with the transporter room of the _Enterprise_.

Kirk leapt off the transporter pad, grinning. Uhura followed him and went straight over to Scotty, winked at him and said, "Nice one."

Scotty grinned. "All your idea," he said, but he was blushing all the same.

Kirk gave them both a mock scowl. "We were just about to come up with a plan too," he insisted. "Right, Spock?"

Spock looked dazed, as though he hadn't heard. Kirk frowned. "You okay?"

"I am uninjured," Spock confirmed.

Kirk squeezed his shoulder. "Not what I meant," he said.

Just then, the transporter came back to life, and Chekov materialized on the pad. He looked downcast.

"Well?" Kirk questioned him.

Chekov bit on his lip as though trying to decide on an appropriate response. "She had reasons for staying," he said simply, and without another glance at any of them, made his way out of the transporter room.

Kirk watched him go curiously, but made no move to follow him. He toyed idly with the torn seam of his shirt sleeve.

"You appear to be making a habit of that," Spock observed.

"What?" Kirk followed Spock's gaze to his damaged shirt. "Yeah," he said with a wry smile. "My yeoman'll go ballistic."

Spock looked as though he were going to say something else, but then glanced over towards Scotty and Uhura, both of whom were watching them with evident curiosity, and thought better of it. "If you will excuse me," Spock said, somewhat stiffly, then made his exit.

It took Kirk a moment to realize that he was staring after his first officer, and that Uhura was watching him, looking thoughtful.

"Captain," she said, not unpleasantly, before she turned to follow Spock, leaving Kirk and Scotty alone in the transporter room.

"So what was in that transmission?" Kirk asked.

Scotty shrugged. "Not really sure, to tell ye the truth. Nyota seemed to think no really advanced aliens could be properly evil – which, by the way, _definitely_ not true – so she put together some stuff from the ship's library all about human culture and history and the like. Ye'd have to ask her."

Kirk nodded, only half listening. Then something registered, and he snapped his head in Scotty's direction. "Nyota? How come everyone gets to call her that but me?"

"Jim?" came a voice from the doorway.

"Hey Bones!" Kirk greeted his friend with a dazzling smile. "Got some of that Saurian brandy?"

Bones shook his head and muttered something incoherent, but led him off towards Sickbay. Once they were safely ensconced in his office, brandy in hand, Bones said, "So what happened to Chekov?"

"Hmm?"

"He was a bit of a mess when he turned up on the bridge."

"Oh." Kirk frowned. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. Thought it best to leave him alone. Think I should go find out?"

"Nah. Last I saw, Sulu was marching him back to his quarters; he's in good hands. Spock didn't look too happy, either."

That caught Kirk's attention. "What?"

Bones sighed, shaking his head and pouring himself another glass. "Course, he never does, but…"

Kirk fought the urge to go and find Spock, reasoning that Uhura was probably with him. He turned what he hoped was a casual-looking smile on Bones. "He's fine."

Bones just scowled at that, though. "That's what worries me," he said darkly. Then, in an apparent non-sequitur, he added, "You were lucky to get out of this one. See what I mean about space being too dangerous for us to go gallivanting around in?"

Kirk grinned, took a long sip of brandy and leaned back in his chair. "Yep," he said. "Isn't it great?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A transporter accident enables Kirk to see two sides of Spock.

It had never occurred to Kirk that he might end up being a workaholic. Even after he'd left the bar room brawls of Iowa to join the Academy, things had come so easily to him that it had never been necessary to put in excessive hours of work; not when his leisure time could be so profitably spent in the bars and beds of San Francisco.

And that was precisely the problem; there were few such diversions to be found on board the _Enterprise_. In theory, he had sixteen off-duty hours per day (insofar as a captain had any off-duty hours at all), of which he spent between six and eight asleep, perhaps two eating (on the days when someone would indulge him and linger for a chat), and one in the gym. That still left him at least five hours per day in which he was left to his own devices.

There were recreation rooms on board, of course, but Kirk's presence in them seemed to unsettle the crew, who had an annoying tendency to hide the Romulan ale when he turned up. So he was forced to find other ways to occupy his time. Sometimes he would patrol the ship – he'd learned that asking a scientist to talk about their research was a sure-fire way to kill a few hours – and when he got bored of being addressed as 'sir' he would retire to his quarters to read. He had so few real books though, ones with paper and ink and pages he could turn, and he hated reading from a screen, so in desperate boredom would usually resort to working instead.

He would never, _ever_ have imagined that he'd be the sort of starship captain who was up to date on his paperwork.

Four days out from the Talos system, he stumbled into McCoy's office and slumped unceremoniously into a chair. "Got some of that Saurian brandy?"

At first, McCoy didn't look up. Kirk was about to repeat himself, and maybe make it an order, when he was favored with a familiar scowl. He replied with his most dazzling smile.

"I'm working," McCoy snapped, gesturing towards the computer.

Kirk shrugged. "So? I won't tell the captain."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Don't you have better things to do than harass me?"

"Not really."

"A starship to run, maybe?"

Kirk shrugged and heaved a sigh. "We're at warp in the middle of deep space; she's kind of running herself." He settled back in his chair. "See, Bones, the thing about space? It's big. And not just big, but…" he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "spacey."

McCoy snorted and shook his head.

"I mean it," said Kirk. "You know how you look up at the sky at night and it's all full of stars? That's a lie. Because when you actually go and look at them, they're nowhere near each other. It's like someone took a few grains of sand and dropped them in a swimming pool."

"You're only discovering this now?"

"Knowing it and seeing it are different."

McCoy sat back in his chair and studied Kirk for a moment. Kirk fidgeted under the scrutiny, then said, hopefully, "About that brandy?"

With a long-suffering sigh, McCoy reached for the bottle and poured two glasses. "Fine," he muttered. "but you've got to stop bothering me every night. Aren't there enough women on board for you to chase?"

"Not for me," Kirk grumbled. "I'm the captain."

"Didn't expect that would stop you." McCoy looked vaguely impressed.

Kirk considered being insulted, but decided he couldn't be bothered, so he shrugged instead and took a sip of the brandy.

"I heard there are poker nights going on," McCoy suggested.

"Nah, they don't want their commanding officer hanging around."

"Bitter, are we?"

"Of course not," Kirk muttered. He was, a little, but knew that it was irrational.

"Well, you're going to have to find _something_ to do besides hang out in Sickbay like a lost puppy," said McCoy.

"Are you really that busy?" Kirk asked, dubious.

McCoy glared at him. "There are four hundred and thirty people on this ship."

"So? There weren't any injuries on the last mission."

"And God help us when there are. Do you have any idea how quickly viruses and infections spread when you have so many people in such a confined space? We've got more than enough to do without any major disasters."

"Huh." Kirk hadn't thought of that, though in truth he suspected McCoy was being paranoid about the ship being disease-infested.

"But speaking of the last mission." McCoy fixed him with a particularly piercing glare. "You seemed to be filling your time fine before that. Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Kirk sighed. He wanted to. "It's not medically relevant."

"For God's sake, man," McCoy snapped, slamming his empty glass down on the desk with such force that Kirk winced. "I know enough as it is. Before we landed there you were spending so much time with Spock I was worried you were…"

Kirk was so taken aback by the ferocity of McCoy's outburst that it took him a moment to realize that the doctor had cut himself off mid-rant. After a pause, he prompted, "You were worried I was what?"

McCoy sighed, the anger seeming to leave him, and waved his hand dismissively. "Then you're imprisoned by some aliens, and all of a sudden you stop your," he sneered and made a quotation mark with his fingers, "'chess nights' and spend half your time hassling me."

Kirk felt a sudden stab somewhere in his chest and found himself looking at the floor as he replied, "Spock's just been busy. There's something big going on in the astrophysics department, apparently. Anyway, what's with the air quotes?"

McCoy snorted and shook his head. "I know you play chess, but not _that_ much. And before you say anything," he held up a hand, "I don't want to know what you were really doing."

Kirk found himself at a complete loss. He frowned and narrowed his eyes as he suggested, "Playing chess?"

McCoy just gave him an incredulous look.

"Really," Kirk insisted. "What did you think it was?"

McCoy poured himself another glass and downed it in one. "Never mind," he said darkly.

*

Kirk shifted in the captain's chair and crossed his legs. For the umpteenth time he mentally cursed whoever was responsible for designing these chairs. Would a bit of padding have killed them?

Then again, he imagined how he would appear on an enemy ship's viewscreen coddled in fluffy cushions and supposed the designer had probably had the right of it. Why did being imposing have to be so damned uncomfortable?

After a moment he realized Spock was watching him. Kirk smiled and cocked his head in question, but Spock simply turned back to the scanners without acknowledgement.

Trying to convince himself that this did not bother him at all, Kirk rested his chin in his hand, adopted a thoughtful expression and turned his attention to the viewscreen. He pretended not to notice that Sulu and Chekov, who had been carrying out a conversation in hushed tones, fell silent, looked back at him, and exchanged a wary glance.

All in all, he could not have been more relieved when beta shift arrived to relieve them. He lingered for a while, ensuring that everyone had handed over their stations, though in truth he was only really watching Spock. After a while he realized that Uhura, too, seemed to be waiting for Spock, but then she caught Kirk's eye, jerked her head in Spock's direction and gave him a meaningful look.

Just what the meaningful look meant, though, was a mystery. He tried to explain as much with a shrug and a shake of his head, but then Uhura was gone.

Moments later, Spock made his way over to the turbolift and Kirk followed him. "Hey Spock," he attempted a nonchalant smile as he stepped into the turbolift. "Time for chess tonight?"

Spock looked straight ahead as he replied, "I am required in the astrophysics laboratory."

Kirk heaved a weary sigh. "All right," he said. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

A small crease appeared in Spock's brow, but in a moment his mask of impassivity was restored. "I have acquired large amounts of data from the long-range scanners in recent weeks that require analysis. Lieutenant Granger informed me that she had apprised you of the situation when you visited the lab."

"Um… probably." Kirk wracked his brain, and vaguely recalled one of his late-night wanderings in which he'd been shown endless slides of stellar spectra. "It sounded fascinating," he lied, "but not exactly urgent. The stars will still be there tomorrow night, right?"

He mentally kicked himself. He was _not_ the kind to get insecure or – dammit – whiny, but he'd never been avoided before when he actually cared what the other person thought of him. Was he being avoided, or was he just paranoid? Perhaps he should just ask…

It was taking Spock a long time to formulate a response. Kirk's heart sank. He was about to ask outright what he'd done when Spock said, "I require further work before I can reach a conclusion, upon which I shall of course file a report."

"Okay," said Kirk. He wanted to say more, but the turbolift doors chose that moment to open onto a corridor full of crewmembers. He straightened up and adopted a more commanding tone. "I'll expect a full report, Mr. Spock."

Spock acknowledged this by inclining his head, and then strode off in the direction of the astrophysics department.

Finding himself at a loose end once more, Kirk spent an hour in the gym and then retired to his quarters to read reports.

A few hours later, the buzzer on his door sounded. He called, "Enter," without looking up, expecting a ranting Bones or a frantic Scotty (Scotty was often frantic when they spent long periods of time at warp; Kirk was just pleased that someone else cared for the _Enterprise_ as much as he did). When the door slid open to utter silence, Kirk did not have to look up to know that Spock was there, yet he was so surprised that he did so anyway.

"Spock!" he said. "I wasn't expecting you."

"My apologies, Captain. You have not objected to my turning up uninvited in the past."

Though he felt like a fool for it, Kirk smiled. "I'm not objecting. Here, sit. Drink?"

Spock looked as though he were about to decline, but evidently thought better of it. "That would be agreeable," he said, taking a seat and folding his hands in his lap.

Kirk's smile faded a little; he had thought Spock was past standing on ceremony when they were alone. Still, he was here, and that was an improvement.

While Kirk gave their order to the replicator, Spock picked up the PADD from his desk and idly perused the reports.

"Have you read Uhura's report?" Kirk called over his shoulder. It was the one that was troubling him the most, regarding a transmission she had intercepted while they were close to the Neutral Zone. 

"Affirmative. I assisted in the decryption of the transmission she describes."

"And what do you think?" Kirk sat down and took the PADD back, re-reading the part where Uhura had had difficulty in decrypting the transmission.

Spock paused before replying, his finger running around the rim of his teacup and his brow furrowed in thought. At last, he looked up and said, "As it transpired, the transmission itself contained little worthy of note. It was merely an acknowledgement; we do not even know what it acknowledged or to whom it was addressed. Still, there was nothing unusual about the contents, except…"

"Except that it was in Vulcan," Kirk filled in.

"Indeed."

"Any suggestions as to what a Vulcan ship was doing so close to the Neutral Zone?"

"There were no authorized ships in the vicinity at that time," said Spock. "It is entirely possible that the transmission was a forgery."

Kirk leaned back in his chair and regarded his first officer carefully. "Is that what you believe?"

Spock met his gaze and held it as he replied evenly, "We already have reason to believe the _Excalibur_ was taken into the Neutral Zone by a Romulan vessel. Whatever their plan may have been, it is logical to assume that any other unexplained phenomena are likewise not what they seem."

"Logical as ever, Mr. Spock," said Kirk with a smile. "You're probably right. Either way, I'm sending this to Starfleet Command with the recommendation that we follow it up."

"Of course, Captain."

"I don't know how this fits in," Kirk mused, "but all the signs are that they're trying to lure us into all-out interstellar war. It makes no sense."

"On the contrary, Captain, it is logical to seize the opportunity while the Federation is weakened."

Kirk's only response was to glare at the report, before putting it away. It made no sense at all to him; the one thing he'd learned above all else since taking command of the _Enterprise_ was just how massive space was. There were at least two hundred billion stars in this galaxy, almost all of them with planetary systems, and most of those uninhabited. What was the point of war when there was plenty of room for everyone?

He was about to pose this question to Spock when his thoughts were interrupted with, "Captain, there was a matter I came here to discuss."

Kirk took a moment to bring his mind back to the present, then said, "Of course, go ahead."

"You appeared perturbed earlier this evening."

It was not a question, and Kirk found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words. "I suppose?"

"Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the cause, and any way in which I might be able to assist?"

Kirk's first instinct was to give him a brush-off, but he stopped himself. He saw how rigidly Spock held himself, the way he clasped his hands tightly in his lap, and realized that broaching the issue must have been difficult for him. Yet Kirk wasn't sure what he was supposed to say; he would feel ridiculous complaining that Spock hadn't come out to play all week.

"Captain?"

"Dammit, Spock." Kirk slammed his empty glass on the desk with more force than he had intended. "I don't know what you want me to say. You can go on about long-range sensor scans as much as you like, but I can tell when I'm being avoided and I want to know why."

"You have concluded that I am avoiding you?"

"Well, yeah."

Spock glanced around, and then looked pointedly at Kirk.

"Well, obviously not right this minute," said Kirk, exasperated, "but don't tell me I'm imagining it. Uhura thinks there's something up too." At least, he assumed that was what that Look had been about, but really, who could tell? "Though I have no idea why she thinks I'll have any more luck getting it out of you if she can't."

Spock looked uncomfortable, but said nothing.

"That's it, isn't it?" said Kirk as it dawned on him. "Damn, Spock, I remember thinking she wouldn't like how much time you were spending with me. You could have just told me, you know."

Spock's eyebrows drew together in a slight frown. "Captain, the lieutenant has no input into how I spend my off-duty hours."

It took Kirk a moment to process that. He turned the words over in his head for a moment, combining them with Spock's discomfited demeanor, and could draw only one conclusion. "You broke up?"

"I believe that is how humans describe the alteration in circumstances."

"Shit." Kirk slumped in his chair. "I had no idea. When?"

"Some weeks ago. Shortly after the incident with the _Excalibur_ , in fact."

Kirk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally kicking himself. Not only had he completely missed this, he'd been so self-absorbed as to think Spock's problem was with him. Unless… "It wasn't because of me, was it?"

"Negative. It was a mutual agreement."

Kirk watched Spock's eyes flicker away from him, in just a fleeting expression of discomfort before his collected mask was restored. He thought back over the past weeks, and then it dawned on him. Of course, it should have been obvious; Spock had stopped going to Uhura's music club thing, and that was when they'd started spending all their time together, playing chess or sparring almost every night, taking their meals together; how could he possibly have been so self-absorbed that he hadn't noticed that?

"Shit," he said aloud. "You didn't break up with her because you were hanging out with me, you started hanging out with me because you'd broken up with her."

"Not entirely," was Spock's careful response.

"You could have told me, you know." Hearing the tone of accusation in his own voice, Kirk winced a little and added, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There is really nothing to discuss. Both the lieutenant and I are satisfied with our current arrangement."

"Which is?"

"We retain a positive working relationship and occasionally engage in social activities."

"So in human-speak, you're still friends." Spock looked a little uncomfortable at that; Kirk had to wonder whether 'friend' was an offensively emotional term to Vulcans. Deciding he didn't care, Kirk added, "I'm your friend too, right? So you could have told me."

Spock quirked one eyebrow, but did not dispute the term. "I believe I have just done so."

"Oh." Kirk sat back in his chair and smiled. "So how about taking up chess again? You'll never learn to beat me if you don't practice."

Spock responded to the teasing with his customary raised eyebrow and said dryly, "I believe you are the one in need of practice, and I shall be pleased to oblige when the opportunity arises. For now, if you will excuse me, I do need to return to the lab."

"Sure. Good night."

"Good night, Jim."

Kirk waited until the door had closed behind Spock, then smiled, and it was genuine, because while it may have taken him a while to get around to it, Spock had actually interrupted his work to come and talk to him, and that was really quite a big deal.

*

The following day's shift on the bridge seemed lighter somehow, probably because they were close to their destination. Sulu and Chekov punctuated their regular reports of their progress with playful banter. Kirk was happy to let them, though he was afraid he might have to step in to break up a fight when Uhura decided to consult the ship's libraries and informed Chekov that the bicycle was invented in Scotland, not Russia. Chekov, of course, maintained that Scotty must have tampered with the ship's libraries.

"Dropping out of warp in two minutes," Sulu announced at last.

"Assume standard orbit," Kirk commanded.

"Aye, sir."

Kirk leaped up from his chair and made for the turbolift, calling over his shoulder to Uhura, "Have Doctor McCoy and geological technician Fisher meet Mr. Spock and myself in the transporter room. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

He did not need to look to know that Spock followed him into the turbolift, and the moment the doors closed behind them, Kirk looked up at the ceiling with an expectant smile.

Sure enough, Spock immediately spoke up. "You are resolved to include yourself in the landing party, Captain?"

Kirk laughed and shook his head. "Seriously, Spock? Every mission?"

"It is my duty," Spock replied. "Though in this case, I was under the impression you had little enthusiasm for the mission. It is, after all, a routine scientific investigation of an uninhabited planet."

"Exactly," said Kirk. "So you have nothing to worry about." The doors opened, and they fell into step as they walked towards the transporter room. "What could possibly go wrong?"

*

"Nice to be in the sunshine again, isn't it?" Kirk squinted up at the sun, which beat down relentlessly on the barren, rocky planet.

Spock looked up from his tricorder with a raised eyebrow. "Actually, I find this temperature quite cool."

"Oh yeah," said Kirk, remembering. "Vulcan was like an oven."

As though a switch had been flicked, Spock's demeanor changed; without a word, he turned his attention back to the tricorder and pointedly turned away.

With a muttered curse, Kirk kicked at the ground.

McCoy watched him, then looked over at Spock. In a low voice, he said, "So much for that lecture on how stupid it is not to talk about Vulcan, huh?"

"It's not that," Kirk sighed. "You were right, it's something from Talos IV. Are we nearly done here?"

"I am," McCoy shrugged. "These plants could have some real medicinal potential, you know."

Kirk eyed the plants nervously. "You're taking them on board?"

"I've examined them quite thoroughly." McCoy held up his tricorder and rolled his eyes. "Non-toxic, and definitely non-sentient this time."

"And they don't sing?"

"No," McCoy confirmed. "But there didn't turn out to be anything wrong with those anyway. I think Sulu has some in his quarters."

"What?" Kirk was really going to have to have words with his crew about bringing unknown lifeforms on board. It didn't matter whether those strange blue plants had never attacked anyone; plants should not sing, or think, or do anything other than photosynthesize.

"Captain," Fisher interrupted his thoughts. "I'm done with the survey."

"Very good," Kirk sighed with relief. "Anything interesting?"

"Indeed," said Spock, coming over to join them. "My recommendation is that Fisher return with an excavation team so that we can further analyze the mineralogy of these rocks."

"Very well. You'll beam back up with us. Spock, assemble a team from Geology." He flipped open his communicator. "Scotty, four to beam up."

Kirk idly wondered whether he'd ever get used to the tingling feeling of being disintegrated and reformed. It was a decidedly odd experience. He blinked to clear his head as the transporter room began to materialize around him. Once he felt whole again, he went to jump down from the pad, but was stopped short by the expression on Scotty's face.

"Scotty?" he said. "What's up?"

Scotty did not reply; he was staring just past Kirk's shoulder. Kirk turned around, half expecting to see a mutated monster of some sort.

What he saw instead was, somehow, even stranger: two Spocks were glaring at each other across the transporter pad.

Kirk couldn't help it; he laughed. He looked back and forth between the Spocks and Scotty, then shrugged. "What's wrong?" he said at last. He could see distinct advantages to having two Spocks around. Bones would probably object, he supposed, though Kirk suspected he secretly enjoyed tormenting the guy. And Uhura, perhaps…but then again, maybe this would make her change her mind…

Kirk coughed and forced his attention back to the present before his mind followed that train of thought any further (it did anyway).

"What the hell's going on?" McCoy yelled at one of the Spocks. "Who the hell are you, and where's Fisher?"

At that, Kirk immediately sobered. "Fisher," he said urgently to Scotty. "His signature must be locked in the transporter system?"

Scotty frantically worked the controls, his expression becoming more and more fraught.

"Come on, Scotty," Kirk pleaded, leaning over the console to watch as Scotty manipulated equations and scoured memory banks. One of the Spocks came to stand beside him, watching in solemn silence.

At last, Scotty took a step back and lowered his head. "I'm sorry Captain. I cannnae find him; it’s like the system erased him."

Kirk felt his stomach plummet to the floor. He felt completely blank as he turned around to look at the transporter pad. "So he's gone," he said numbly. "And we have two Spocks."

"Captain," Scotty said slowly, "I dinnae know what you're seein', but I've no idea who that is." He gestured towards the second Spock.

Kirk shot Scotty a scathing look and started towards the transporter pad, then stopped short. On closer inspection, the difference was obvious; this one looked much like Spock, but his eyebrows were at an odd angle, his ears were rounded, and his skin had a warm, pinkish tone.

"It's you," Kirk exclaimed, "only…you're human." He approached the second Spock and reached out a hand to touch the strange ear, but caught himself just in time and instead whirled around to face the first Spock, who was watching from the console.

That Spock looked in every way identical to the one Kirk knew – the same pointed ears, the slanted eyebrows raised in an expression that seemed to say, _I am once again astounded by your idiocy_ , the same vaguely ethereal green tinge to his skin. Yet there was something different about him, though Kirk could not place it.

"You appear to know this gentleman," Spock glanced towards his human self.

Kirk laughed, but when Spock's eyebrow only climbed higher, he stopped. "Don't tell me you don't see it?"

"See what, Captain?"

Kirk frowned and made a vague gesture between the two of them. "He's you," he said. "But human."

Spock made a vaguely disgusted sound, but the human Spock spoke up. "The captain is correct," he said, "though I am at a loss to explain how this happened."

McCoy, who had been watching the scene with a strangely disgruntled expression, took a step towards the human Spock and squinted at him. "I suppose there is a resemblance," he said momentarily.

Confused, Kirk shot a pleading glance towards Scotty. "What about you? Don't tell me I'm the only one who sees it."

"Aye," Scotty conceded. "I sorta see it, now that ye mention it."

Kirk shook his head in disbelief, unable to believe it wasn't obvious to anyone but him. "Sickbay," he ordered. "Both of you."

While the others made their way to the door, Kirk lingered, looking at the empty transporter pad. After a moment, he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder.

"I always said it was a foolish way to travel," said McCoy.

Kirk took a deep breath, his eyes rooted to the spot where Fisher should have materialized. "It shouldn't have happened."

"These things should never happen," McCoy reasoned, "but they do. And it wasn't your fault."

Kirk looked over his shoulder and gave McCoy a rueful smile. "I'm the captain," he said. "Everything that happens to this ship and her crew is my responsibility."

"It's a wonder more captains don't turn to drink." McCoy jerked his head towards the door. "Come on, you've got another crisis to sort out before you can dwell on this one."

"Right." Kirk heaved a sigh and followed McCoy out of the transporter room. "But I'm not ruling out the turning-to-drink thing yet."

The sight that greeted them in Sickbay was almost comical enough to chase away the air of desperate melancholy that Kirk had felt settle over him. The human Spock was perched on the corner of one bed, glaring daggers at his Vulcan counterpart who stood ramrod-straight, his hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on a distant corner of the room and his lips pursed in evident annoyance.

McCoy made a beeline for the human, running his tricorder over the almost-familiar body and stubbornly ignoring Spock's insistence that, "I am quite well and do not appreciate this intrusion."

Kirk tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. The voice was the same, and the words even sounded like him, but coming from an animated (by Spock's standards) human face, it was difficult to take him seriously.

"Well?" Kirk prompted when McCoy had completed his scan.

McCoy shrugged and said, "Seems perfectly healthy. In better shape than he was, since everything's where it should be now."

"I would hardly call that an improvement, Doctor," said the Vulcan Spock.

McCoy's face darkened in his customary scowl. "Of course you would say that. Come on then, let's check you out."

With some reluctance, the Vulcan Spock submitted to the scan. Kirk's attention drifted back to the human, who was rubbing his arm vigorously and watching it turn red with a quirk of the eyebrow that said, _Fascinating_.

Kirk grinned and hopped up onto the bed beside him. "Being human's not so bad, is it?"

For a moment Spock was too absorbed in applying pressure to his fingernails and watching them turn pink to reply, but at last he said, "Indeed, I find that I am somewhat relieved."

"Relieved?"

Spock did not take his eyes off his hands, but his lips twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile that made Kirk's heart skip a beat. "For one thing, I feel no shame in admitting that fact. I feel _relieved_. I _feel_ relieved."

Somehow, the fact that the emotion Spock was so thrilled to be able to express was so tame and insignificant made it all the more endearing to Kirk, who elbowed him playfully in the ribs and said, "Bet I can fix that with a chess game."

And then Spock did smile, and though it was faint and fleeting, it was as though someone had whipped the bed out from under him and all of Kirk's internal organs had plummeted to the floor. Which was ridiculous, because it was only a smile and it was only over chess, of all things, but even so…

Kirk felt positively giddy as he grinned over at Bones, but his jovial mood was cut short when he caught the Vulcan Spock's ice-cold glare. Kirk opened his mouth to apologize, though he was really nothing resembling sorry, but what came out was, "Hey, that's what's different." He hopped off the bed and jabbed a finger in Vulcan Spock's direction. "It's the eyes."

McCoy and both Spocks gave him doubtful looks, but Kirk ploughed on, "See, this one," he indicated the human, "has Spock's eyes. This one's," he gestured towards the other, "are…different."

McCoy just gaped at him. The Vulcan's jaw tightened, and the human Spock gave a wry smile and looked at the floor.

"Well," said Kirk, "don't you see it?"

McCoy gave the Spocks a cursory glance, and shrugged. "Not really. And I find it disturbing that you do."

"I'm right," Kirk insisted. "This isn't the original Spock either. It's like they've been split, one human and one –"

"Completely Vulcan," Spock filled in, his eyebrow slowly climbing.

Kirk looked at one, then the other, a smile spreading across his face as he comprehended, "It's like the transporter split him into his two halves."

"They always said I had human eyes," the human Spock said sadly.

Kirk frowned, wondering who 'they' were but not wanting to ask.

"I do feel vastly improved," said the Vulcan, earning glares from both Kirk and the human Spock.

"Yeah, this one checks out too," McCoy announced. "Though by 'checks out' I mean his heart's still where his liver should be and he's got this green stuff he calls blood."

The Vulcan merely lifted one eyebrow in an expression of pure disdain and said, "Then may I return to my duties?"

"Hang on." Kirk held up a hand and assumed his captain voice. "Now that we've made sure you're all right – that you're both all right, I mean – we have to work out how we're going to fix this. Bones, have Scotty meet us in the briefing room."

Kirk headed for the door, but found his way blocked by an austere Vulcan. "With all due respect, Captain, what is it you mean to 'fix'?"

Kirk waved his hand between the two Spocks. "This," he said. "We have to figure out how to get you back in one piece."

"May I enquire as to why you deem that necessary?"

Kirk looked over to the human Spock, but received only a shrug. "I am in agreement. While the transporter malfunction was unfortunate and should be investigated, I see no need to reverse the effects in this regard."

Kirk shot a pleading glance at McCoy, but he, too, shrugged. "To be frank, Jim, I can't see the harm medically speaking." Then he scowled and added, "Though I can think of plenty of other reasons this is a bad idea."

"All right," said Kirk. "I suppose. But we still have to work out what happened, so, briefing room. Now."

They walked there in silence, the Spocks giving each other suspicious glances the whole way. Scotty was already there when they entered the room, and had been joined by Uhura, who shrugged unapologetically and glared at Kirk in a way that seemed to dare him to exclude her from this. Kirk decided the best course of action was to pretend he'd expected to see her there, so he just greeted her with a nod and took a seat. The Spocks sat on either side of him, still glaring at one another.

"So, Mr. Scott?" Kirk prompted when they were all seated.

"Seems there were somethin' in the beam that messed with the transporter."

"'Messed with'?" the Vulcan Spock repeated archly. "Your use of language is imprecise."

Scotty scowled at him and explained, "I've had all o' fifteen minutes to look into this. But there was some compound the transporter system couldnae recognize."

"Fisher was transporting up a sample of a mineral found on the planet's surface," the Vulcan Spock confirmed.

"Hang on," McCoy cut in. "You're saying he was carrying something the transporter didn't understand, so it _murdered_ him?" 

"Your emotional language is inappropriate and futile, Doctor," said the Vulcan Spock, "though you are essentially correct."

"Hang on," said Kirk. "I'm with Bones here. That doesn't sound like something that should happen. I mean, we're on an exploratory mission – we beam unknown stuff all the time."

"It is not part of the design specifications of the transporter system," the human Spock agreed.

"Aye," Scotty concurred. "Teething problem, I expect. I'll look into it, and I'll need Mr. Spock's help to examine the programmin'."

Both Spocks' heads snapped in his direction. Kirk laughed awkwardly. "Which Spock would you like?"

"I believe I am best suited for the task, Captain," said the Vulcan.

"Why?" the human protested. "I have received the same training that you have."

"Yet you are limited by human faculties," said the Vulcan coolly.

"Guys," Kirk cut in before the human could respond. "Let's not get into a humans versus Vulcans thing here, okay? I'm assigning you," he nodded towards the Vulcan, "to assist Mr. Scott. You," he indicated the human Spock, "I need on the bridge."

"Very well, Captain," said the Vulcan. The human scowled and said nothing.

For a moment, Kirk was taken aback; he had never seen Spock scowl, and the sight was comical. Spock noticed his scrutiny and immediately schooled his features into a neutral expression. Kirk rolled his eyes and glanced over at the Vulcan, who looked decidedly smug in his own expressionless way.

Kirk sighed and shook his head; he could foresee much drama between these two. "That's that, then," he said wearily. "I suggest you get started."

Scotty and the Vulcan Spock departed for Engineering, leaving Kirk and the human Spock with McCoy and Uhura. 

"What are we supposed to call this one, then?" asked McCoy, jerking his head towards Spock.

Kirk shrugged. "What's wrong with Spock?"

"I'm not answering that," said McCoy with a snort. "What I meant was, shouldn't he get a human name to go with the red blood and properly arranged organs?"

Kirk frowned and glanced over at Spock. "He's still Spock, as much as the other one is."

As he looked back over towards McCoy, Kirk caught a glimpse of a surprised but vaguely impressed expression on Uhura's face.

"Don't you think Spock should get a say in this?" she suggested, raising her eyebrows in Spock's direction.

It seemed for a moment as though Spock was not going to respond, but then he said, in a quiet voice, "My human mother approved of my name."

"Spock it is," Kirk said firmly, shooting a quelling glance towards McCoy.

McCoy simply shook his head and rose from his seat, muttering, "I need a drink," as he headed for the door.

As the door closed behind him, Kirk made to follow, but glanced back over his shoulder. "Are you two going to be all right working together on the bridge?"

Uhura rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "Not all of us have the emotional maturity of a Denebian slime devil," she snapped.

Well, that was unnecessary. Exasperated and a little hurt, Kirk retorted, "That's, 'not all of us have the emotional maturity of a Denebian slime devil, _Captain_ '. And I was just asking if you're okay. I haven't pried into whatever happened between you two, so there's no need to get personal, _Lieutenant_."

Uhura had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed as she said in a softer tone, "I'm fine."

"And you?" Kirk turned to Spock.

"Quite well, Captain."

"All right. In that case, dismissed." Kirk turned to leave, but hesitated by the door. "On second thought, Spock, could you assist me with something?"

"Certainly, Captain."

They walked in silence down the corridor. Spock followed Kirk into his quarters and waited for the door to close behind them before he asked, "What is it you require of me, Captain?"

Kirk took a moment to fiddle absently with a PADD before he explained, "Spock, one of my crew just died."

Somehow, saying it out loud made it seem suddenly real. Kirk slumped in his chair and let his head fall into his hands. It felt as though someone were twisting his stomach. Someone had died, on his watch, and in such a pointless way.

When he looked up, Spock was sitting on the edge of the desk beside him, watching him with a carefully guarded expression. Kirk opened his mouth to say something but could think of nothing. With a defeated sigh, he rested his forehead against Spock's knee. He felt Spock tense momentarily, but then long fingers threaded through his hair, and he felt Spock's hand as a reassuring weight on his head.

Kirk allowed his shoulders to slump and his grief to wash through him. For a long while they remained that way, in silence but for the heavy raggedness of Kirk's breathing. All he could think was how wrong it all was, how randomly and suddenly death could claim someone, and that it was all – everything on this ship – his responsibility. For the first time since he had taken command of the _Enterprise_ , it felt like an unbearable weight.

It took some time for Kirk's head to clear enough for him to realize that this Spock was human, and as such could not sense anything of his feelings through the touch. And how did he know that Vulcans could do that without a full meld anyway? He raised his head. Spock withdrew his hand and cocked his head in inquiry.

"Thanks," was all Kirk could think of to say. Spock looked at something of a loss, so he added, "Actually I did bring you here for something. Um," he raked a hand through his hair, "I know there are…procedures. I'm just not sure… I don't remember."

"There is a form," Spock confirmed. "Number…" he trailed off and looked away, his brow furrowed in concern.

"It doesn't matter if you can't remember the number," said Kirk, mentally kicking himself for forgetting that Spock was having to get used to being human. "Just…help me fill it out?"

"Of course, Captain." Spock hopped down from the desk and took the chair across the desk before correcting himself, "Jim."

*

It was harrowingly clinical, Kirk thought. When he was done, he felt in need of a stiff drink, so that evening found him in McCoy's office once again.

"What's the strongest thing you've got?"

"Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor not a barman," McCoy snapped. Then he looked up and saw something in Kirk's demeanor that caused him to sigh and shake his head. "There's some Romulan ale in that cupboard behind you."

"You know that's illegal, don't you?" Kirk asked conversationally as he poured himself some and offered the bottle to McCoy.

McCoy's response was to roll his eyes, but he accepted the bottle and took a swig.

"I just filed Fisher's death," Kirk announced into his glass a few moments later.

"Ah."

"I take it you've done your bit?"

"Such as I can, when there's no body to examine." McCoy scowled at the bottle and took another swig. "I never liked that transporter."

"I know," Kirk sighed.

"You get disintegrated every time you use that thing, you know that? It breaks you apart and then builds you somewhere else. What's to say the thing it builds is even still you?"

Kirk stared at the bottom of his now-empty glass. These were all questions that had been asked repeatedly for over a century. He knew they still bothered some people, but he preferred not to think too hard about it.

"I still have to write to the family," he said.

"You didn't do that first?"

Kirk shifted uncomfortably. "I tried," he admitted. "Only, I realized I didn't even know the guy. It doesn't seem right for his mom to get a form letter, you know?"

McCoy looked horrified. "Jim, you can't ask one of his friends to –"

"Oh, I know," Kirk interrupted him. "Spock suggested I go down to Geology and talk to them, though."

"Spock suggested that?" McCoy's brow furrowed and he knocked back more of the ale. "Ah, you mean the other one. So he's actually human, then?"

"Yep," said Kirk with a smile. "Bit on the reserved side, still, but I think even you'd like him."

McCoy snorted. "See what crazy things transporters do?"

Kirk laughed and hauled himself to his feet. "Okay," he said, "I'd better get this out of the way before I chicken out."

"Need someone to hold your hand?"

McCoy's tone was mocking, but the intense gaze he fixed Kirk with said that it was a genuine offer, in the metaphorical sense at least. That eased Kirk's nerves somehow, even though he declined.

It was every bit as awful as he had anticipated it would be. News, it seemed, travelled at warp speed on a starship, and by the time he got down to the Geology lab he found enough distraught crewmembers to know that rumor had preceded him.

At first, they were reluctant to talk, or had only questions and accusations. After a while, though, they settled down, and even seemed grudgingly grateful for his interest. He learned that Fisher had a younger sister, that his parents were separated but that he was on good terms with each, and that he played basketball.

For the most part, the information was of no practical use in writing the letter, but knowing it made him feel more qualified to do so.

"Thank you," he said earnestly as he departed. "And take tomorrow off, okay? That's an order."

Kirk felt strangely empty as he made his way back to the turbolift, not at all relishing the task in front of him. He'd been trained for it, of course, and he'd known it would have to happen someday, yet there was really no way of being prepared for it. Somehow, in the course of the few short months since they'd left Earth, he'd come to feel so protective of this ship and her crew that it felt like a personal blow.

He was so lost in thought that it wasn't until he heard a familiar voice say, "Captain," that he noticed Spock walking down the corridor towards him. He looked up somewhat distractedly; it was the Vulcan, and he was regarding Kirk carefully.

"Sorry, Spock, I was on another planet," said Kirk. As Spock quirked one eyebrow, he sighed and added, "Figuratively speaking. What brings you down here?"

"I am on my way to the astrophysics lab. Perhaps you would care for the report you requested?"

"Oh, right." Kirk really didn't care at this point, but something made him follow Spock anyway. "What about the transporter?"

"I have isolated the problem in the software. Mr. Scott is currently effecting repairs, and we shall be able to conduct tests tomorrow."

"That's great."

Spock paused before the door of the lab. "You sound less than enthused, Captain."

Kirk blinked, surprised. "I suppose. It's just a shame we can't do anything in time to save Fisher, you know?"

"Indeed," said Spock. "That is regrettable. Have you informed his relations?"

"That's what I was on my way to do. I've just been chatting with some of his friends. They're arranging a memorial tomorrow. You should probably be there, being head of the science department."

"Of course."

"Unless you'd rather I sent…you know, the other you?" Kirk frowned. "Which one of you is going to be the science officer now, anyway? Or First Officer, come to that?"

"I suggest you make that decision based on merit. As to the matter of the memorial, I am given to understand that these events are important to humans. As such, I believe I would like to attend."

"Really?" Spock lifted one eyebrow, and Kirk shrugged. "Sorry, I guess I assumed you'd be less… I thought you'd lecture me on survival statistics or something."

Spock looked away. "While this was to be expected eventually, I do not intend to 'lecture' you. Vulcans regret any loss of life, Captain. Often more so than humans do."

"Of course. Sorry." Kirk shifted on his feet, suddenly awkward. "Um, shall we?" he indicated the door to the astrophysics lab.

Spock nodded curtly and led him inside. The lab was unoccupied but for one lieutenant.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Granger," Kirk greeted her.

She flushed, evidently pleased that he had remembered her. "Evening, Captain," she responded.

"I had promised to apprise the captain of the situation," Spock explained to her. "Do you have the data?"

"Of course, Commander."

While Granger worked at one of the computer terminals, Spock explained, "While in the vicinity of the Romulan Neutral Zone, we took the opportunity for some long-range sensor scans of previously uncharted space. Lieutenant Granger was performing routine analysis of the data and alerted me to an alarming result."

"Alarming? How?"

"Here it is, sirs," Granger stepped aside and gestured towards the screen.

"The plot on the screen shows the luminosity and temperature of every recorded star in the Galaxy," Spock explained.

Kirk glanced at the screen; most of the points on the graph were arranged in a roughly diagonal line through the center, with a few clusters around the outside. "Spock," he said, exasperation creeping into his voice, "you said yourself that I know what a star is. And I know an H-R diagram when I see one. How about you skip to the point?"

"Very well," said Spock, somewhat stiffly. "The _point_ is marked in green."

Kirk scanned the outsides of the diagram, looking for a green mark in an unusual location. When he could not find it, Spock pointed it out; it was almost in the dead center, in the most crowded part of the diagram. Kirk took a step back, frowning as he glanced between Spock and Granger.

"Um…okay?" he said, thoroughly confused. "Care to enlighten me as to how the most average star you could possibly make is in any way alarming?"

"This," said Spock, "is the Hobus star."

Kirk stared at the green point again. The name rang a bell for some reason, but he couldn't quite put his finger on –

"Wait," he said as it occurred to him. "The Hobus star? The supernova that's supposed to destroy Romulus?"

"Precisely."

"Huh. So you _were_ doing something important." He frowned at the diagram again. "Hang on, so this completely average, main sequence star in the prime of its life is supposed to go supernova in a little over a hundred years?"

"Indeed," Spock confirmed.

"That's crazy."

"If you please, sir," Granger piped up, "that's why I asked for the science officer's opinion. My calculations suggest it has at least a couple of billion years of fuel left, and even then it's simply not big enough for a supernova."

"I have checked the lieutenant's calculations, and they are in perfect order," Spock confirmed. "We have spent this week running simulations and making further calculations, but can find no error." 

Kirk shrugged. "Well, that's great news, isn't it? Doesn't that mean no supernova in our timeline?"

"I am at a loss to explain how anything could so drastically affect the course of a star's evolution."

"No theories at all?"

"Negative, Captain."

Granger cast a nervous glance towards Spock. "Nothing," she confessed. "Not unless they blew it up themselves."

Kirk sighed. "Well, I guess this should be reported?"

"I am writing up a report for Starfleet Command," Granger confirmed.

"Very good. Thanks for filling me in, Lieutenant, Mr. Spock."

With a grim smile, Kirk turned on his heel and departed. It took him a moment to realize that Spock was following him. When they reached the relative privacy of a deserted corridor, Spock spoke up. "Is there anything you require, Captain?"

"Huh?" Kirk stopped and turned to face him, surprised at the concern evident in the tilt of his head even though his expression was blank. "I don't think so. I'm just going to go and write that letter."

"There is nothing I can do here until more data is acquired," said Spock. "In the meantime, I would be amenable to resuming our chess matches, should you desire it."

"Oh." Taken aback, Kirk could think of nothing to say for a moment. He did want to resume playing chess with Spock, very much so, though he had assumed it would be with the human one. "Yes," he said before he could convince himself otherwise. "That would be great. Maybe in an hour or so?"

"Very well, Jim."

Kirk set off for his quarters with a smile, the Vulcan's gaze a heavy weight on his back.

*

As the days passed, Kirk gradually got used to having two Spocks around. After some initial suspicion, most of the crew warmed to the human Spock immensely. Sulu and Chekov in particular enjoyed engaging him in long discussions of the merits of string theory in its various forms, though – even when human – he considered their wistful clinging to a theory that remained unproven after two hundred years 'illogical.'

The other Spock and Scotty declared the transporter repaired after two days. The remaining geologists were reluctant to trust it, though, so Kirk allowed them to continue using a shuttlecraft. The Vulcan declared their fears irrational and the continued use of shuttlecraft wasteful, and even demonstrated the successful beaming of the same minerals Fisher had been transporting. He ceased, though, when Kirk privately pointed out that he was displaying traits a human would recognize as irritation. This earned him a glare, but Spock agreed to turn a blind eye to the use of the shuttlecraft for the remainder of this mission only.

It was remarkable, Kirk thought, just how often he caught the Vulcan Spock displaying emotion, even now that he had no human side on which to blame the lapses. The displays were perhaps less apparent than before, and with the Vulcan eyes they were harder to read, but they still existed. There were the thinly pursed lips every time Kirk announced, "Checkmate," in one of their games (which happened more often with this Spock than with the human one, since Kirk found he was able to predict almost every move). There were also expressions of wonder, evident only in slightly widened eyes, every time something unusual was uncovered on the planet.

The two Spocks took care to avoid one another. The Vulcan had retained the old Spock's quarters, and the human had insisted on being assigned a cabin as far away as possible. Of course, their paths still crossed on a regular basis, and the way they seemed to irritate each other amused Kirk greatly. However, he also realized that this was going to make selecting a first officer extraordinarily difficult.

"Isn't it obvious?" McCoy grouched when Kirk asked his opinion.

"No, actually," Kirk sighed.

"The first officer has to take command when you're not around. So he needs a few basic social skills."

"You want me to pick the human."

"Surely you're not thinking the other one? Come on, the guy's a machine. You know he sent some poor ensign down to Sickbay yesterday because he made a simple error in a calculation?"

"Really?" Kirk gave an involuntary smile that made McCoy roll his eyes.

"Poor kid was scared half to death. He'd only forgotten to carry the one or something."

"So he's a perfectionist," Kirk shrugged. "That's good and first officer-y, right?"

McCoy threw his hands in the air. "I dunno why I bother."

Before Kirk could respond, they were interrupted by one of the subjects of their conversation.

"Excuse me, Doctor," said the human Spock, carefully avoiding Kirk's gaze. "May I have a moment?"

"Sure," said McCoy, shooting Kirk a wary glance. Kirk sighed and excused himself, but as he left Sickbay he cast a curious glance back over his shoulder and caught Spock hastily looking away.

*

The following morning, Kirk entered the mess hall to see Spock engaged in an intense-looking conversation with Sulu and Chekov. It took him a moment to realize that this was the Vulcan Spock, and Kirk wondered whether he was being subjected to the same debate as his human counterpart.

Intrigued, Kirk began to make his way over, but then a familiar bark of laughter caught his attention. He looked over to the other side of the room, where Bones was chatting animatedly to…the other Spock? That clearly warranted further investigation, so Kirk crossed the room and took the seat beside Bones. "What's so funny?"

Bones shifted over to make room for him. "Just introducing Spock here to human food," he explained.

Kirk looked over at Spock, who was scowling at his plate as though it had personally offended him. "You eat human food all the time," he pointed out.

"For some reason," said Spock curtly, "the doctor thought I needed to be introduced to something called grits."

"We have grits?" Kirk grinned.

Spock sighed and pushed his plate across the table to Kirk, then left to retrieve something more palatable for himself. Kirk munched happily and grinned at McCoy. "I only put up with you because you introduced me to this, you know."

"You hated it at first," McCoy reminded him.

"Good thing you persisted," said Kirk, and then made a face as Spock returned with a bowl of fruit. "You sure you gave this a chance?" Kirk pressed. "You get used to it. Really."

Spock regarded him with a level gaze for a moment before replying, "Quite sure."

"Wait 'til you try chicken fried steak," said McCoy.

Kirk couldn’t decide which was funnier, the wistful expression on McCoy's face or the nauseated one on Spock's. Turning to McCoy but with a sidelong glance at Spock, Kirk said, "Guess I'll have to rethink making this one First Officer, huh?"

Spock started, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks, before he said, "I fail to see why appreciation of peculiar southern food – including meat products – is a requirement, Captain."

Kirk grinned, still intrigued by the pinkish tinge to Spock's face. "I'm sure the other one's not keen either. 'Course, the other one can kick my ass, so…"

At that, Spock looked down, his expression darkening. Kirk gave a mental shrug, figuring he was just annoyed by the mention of the other self he inexplicably disliked.

When Kirk looked up, he saw that the Vulcan was standing across the room, staring at him. Anyone else would have described his expression as blank, but Kirk could see a hint of distinct curiosity. When he caught Kirk watching him, though, he turned and departed.

*

Kirk was not required on the planet, as both Spocks repeatedly reminded him; it was just a scientific examination of an uninhabited planet, after all. However, shifts on the bridge were decidedly dull while they were in orbit, and the sunshine was pleasant, so he decided it was the captain's prerogative to include himself unnecessarily in landing parties.

He was sitting on a rock, basking in the midday sun when the Vulcan Spock, still ostensibly engrossed in his tricorder, said, "You have made the decision to appoint the human as your first officer."

"Huh?" It took Kirk a moment to realize what Spock had said. He looked around, noting that the three ensigns who had accompanied them were some way off. Content that they were alone, he said, "What makes you think that?"

"My hearing is more sensitive than a human's."

"Oh." Kirk frowned. "You mean at breakfast this morning? I was joking. Actually, I'm still undecided."

"It seems logical for you to select a human."

"Does it?" Kirk lay back on the rock, staring up at the sky to where the _Enterprise_ orbited out of sight. "I'd miss having you inform me that our odds of survival are 'approximately 7,824.7 to one.'"

"I do not believe I have ever told you any such thing."

Kirk hesitated; Spock was right, of course, but that being the case, why could he hear the words so clearly in his head? Perturbed, he settled for, "Perhaps not, but you know what I mean."

"I am not sure that I do."

"Aren't you going to tell me why Vulcans make far superior officers?" Kirk peered up at Spock, using one hand to shade his eyes from the sun, and caught a glimpse of a fleeting expression of doubt.

"On the contrary," said Spock, his voice perhaps too controlled, "I have concluded that the logical course would be for me to resign my commission. With your permission, of course, Captain."

"Wait." Kirk shot to his feet, instinctively grabbing Spock's arm before he caught himself and backed away. "Resign? No. Absolutely not."

"While the circumstances are unprecedented, I believe having my…counterpart here satisfies the terms of my contract."

"But…why?"

"As a Vulcan, I have a responsibility to assist in the rebuilding of our race."

"What? I thought you'd already been through this, and decided Starfleet's cooler?"

"That was not the reason for my decision," Spock said tersely. It occurred to Kirk that he had no idea what the reason was, but he decided that was something the human Spock was more likely to answer truthfully. "Regardless, I was not, at the time, a full Vulcan. Now that I am, I may be of more use."

"Wait. You're not saying you plan to retire to the new colony and make baby Vulcans?"

"It is logical."

"What? No! If your DNA's that important all of a sudden, you can jerk off into a cup."

Spock's left eyebrow shot up to his hairline. "I fail to see why –"

"You want me to say it?" Kirk snapped. "Then fine: I don't want you to go. Happy?"

"Of course not; that would be a human emotion."

Kirk slouched back against the rock, letting out an incoherent noise of exasperation.

"You appear to be…well-acquainted with the other Spock," the Vulcan pointed out.

Kirk snorted. "So what, you're jealous?"

"Negative," said Spock dismissively. "As I said, your choice is logical."

"And as _I_ said, I made no such choice. And for what it's worth, of course I like human-you; you're not as different as you like to think."

"I hardly think that insults are necessary, Captain," said Spock, but he looked away, suddenly discomfited. _Emotional_ , Kirk realized triumphantly. "At any rate," Spock continued, "I have made my request. Should you see fit to deny it, I shall make enquiries as to whether your permission is required."

"Meaning you'd like me to say yes, but if I say no you're going anyway?"

"I have made my intention clear."

"Yeah," Kirk sighed, defeated. "That you have." Then he reached for his communicator and called, "Scotty? One to beam up."

He could see Spock watching him, his expression carefully guarded, as he disintegrated, but he did not say another word.

"Nice t' see someone still appreciates the transporter," Scotty grumbled when he materialized on the _Enterprise_.

"Good afternoon to you too," Kirk replied dryly. He crossed over to the console and flipped the comm switch. "Kirk to bridge."

" _Spock here_ ," came the reply.

"Mr. Spock, could you meet me in my quarters?"

" _On my way, Captain_."

"Problem, Captain?" Scotty asked.

"No, everything's fine. Spock – the Vulcan one, I mean – won't be up for a few hours yet, and the others will bring the shuttle back."

"Aye, sir."

Kirk made to leave, but paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. "Oh, and good work on the transporter, it works great."

"Thanks, Captain," Scotty beamed.

"Just one thing." Kirk stepped back into the room and waited for the door to slide closed. "Hypothetically speaking, if this were to happen again –"

"It won't."

"– _if_ it were to happen again. Or something like it. Do you think you could – theoretically – get the transporter to reintegrate someone who's been split in two?"

Scotty cocked his head and gave a knowing smile. "Aye, I've given it some thought. My theory is that when it couldn't process Mr. Fisher, it were still lookin' for four life signs, and somethin' made it recognize Mr. Spock as two."

"And can you undo it?"

"I cannnae say for sure, but I think so. Only…"

"Only what?" Kirk prompted.

"Only ye'd have a hard time gettin' either o' them to agree to it."

"Yeah," Kirk reluctantly agreed. Then, curious, he added, "What makes you think that? I don't suppose you've asked them?"

Scotty shook his head. "Nyota asked me the same thing you did, just this mornin'."

"Really?" Kirk shrugged, hoping his nonchalance was convincing but sure that it was not. "Oh well, it was only a hypothetical question."

"Of course," Scotty smirked. "I'll get right on testin' my theory anyway."

"Good idea," Kirk agreed. "Just in case it happens again."

Smiling, Kirk made his way to his quarters, unsurprised when he found Spock already waiting outside for him.

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

Kirk waited until they were inside before replying, ostensibly waiting for privacy, though he wasn't entirely sure why he had summoned Spock here at all. In truth, he just wanted to talk to a friend after the shock of finding he was about to lose another. When the door closed behind them, though, an idea struck him.

"No problem," Kirk assured him. "I wanted to know if you're all right, actually." He gestured for Spock to sit down while he fetched some tea. Spock took the tea, but eyed Kirk with distinct suspicion.

"There is nothing to report from the bridge," Spock said warily. "Except that the helmsman and navigator continue to demonstrate disturbing fondness for antiquated scientific theories. This afternoon, they attempted to convince me of something called a luminiferous aether." 

Kirk laughed and sat down opposite him. "Obviously they don't have enough work to do. We should rectify that."

"Indeed."

"But what I meant was, how are you? I know it's officially none of my business, but what you saw Bones about yesterday…is anything wrong?"

"I am quite well," Spock insisted. "I merely had some minor medical concerns relating to my new human physiology."

"Oh?" Kirk looked up sharply. "Anything wrong?"

Spock folded his hands in his lap. "Unknown. The doctor seems satisfied, but..."

"But what?" At Spock's hesitation, he added, "If I can help…"

"Well…" Spock looked at the floor as his face flushed red, which Kirk could still not get used to. "There are aspects of human biology which are…unfamiliar to me."

Kirk grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Well," he said, "it just so happens that biology is my forte. Go on."

Spock took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. "For instance, I know that my heart is located here now," he placed his hand in the middle of his chest, "because the doctor has verified it, but I am unable to feel it."

Suppressing a smile, Kirk leaned over the desk and moved Spock's hand to the left. "Actually it's about there-ish. And what do you mean, 'feel it'?"

It took Spock a moment to respond; he seemed to be preoccupied by Kirk's hand. 

"I am unable to sense its location and functionality," he clarified.

"That's normal," Kirk assured him. "I get the impression Vulcans are more…aware of that kind of thing than we are."

"This seems most unsatisfactory."

Kirk shrugged. "Billions of humans seem to cope all right with it."

"Indeed. I understand now why they exhibit so many limitations."

"I don't know," Kirk mused. "There are some things humans have better."

"Please, enlighten me."

It was surprisingly, and disturbingly, difficult. After a long hesitation, Kirk supplied, "We don't have to be all crazy about suppressing emotions."

Spock's eyebrow climbed. "I have yet to experience any difference in that regard."

"Really?" Kirk thought about that for a moment. He could still recall every detail of his mind meld with the older Spock, and one thing stood out above all else. "Of course," he said, shaking his head at his own ignorance. "It's not that Vulcans don't feel, you just repress the hell out of yourselves."

"It is not a biological difference, but one adopted through discipline," Spock confirmed.

"So, nurture rather than nature."

"As I said. Although it is correct that mental discipline seems more difficult now. I suspect this is why humans are more prone to lose control of their emotions."

Kirk tried to fight back his smile, but a small laugh escaped. "Sorry," he said when Spock raised his eyebrow. "It's just…you talk the same as well, only it sounds weird coming from a human."

"It seems the differences, aside from the physical, are not so great as one would have assumed," Spock mused.

Kirk shook his head, laughing softly. "Yeah, that's what I just told other-you."

"I imagine he was not impressed."

"Nope."

They sat in silence for a moment, drinking their tea while lost in their own thoughts. Kirk realized belatedly that he had continued giving the human Spock Vulcan tea without asking whether he still liked it. He had yet to complain, though, and Kirk supposed it couldn't be too distasteful to humans since he'd taken to drinking the stuff himself somewhere along the line; after all, it was no fun getting drunk over chess when your opponent remained stubbornly sober.

"Spock," he said at last. "Are you still completely set on staying this way?"

"Which way, Captain?"

"You know," Kirk waved a hand in Spock's direction. "Human."

Spock set his cup down on the desk with a clatter. "This disturbs you."

"No," said Kirk, reasoning that it was only half a lie. "I only want to know if you're sure."

"I am quite sure."

"Very well." Kirk tried for a smile, but his heart sank. Of course, he had known that trying to persuade them to change back was a long shot, but how else could he convince the Vulcan to stay?

*

Kirk was compiling his logs for transmission to Starfleet when he was startled by Uhura's voice over the comm calling, " _Captain Kirk to the bridge_."

Something about the urgency in her voice made him drop what he was doing and all but run for the turbolift. The doors opened onto the bridge just in time for him to witness the human Spock launching himself at the Vulcan and landing a punch square on his jaw.

"Spock!" Kirk yelled, running towards them.

He was too late; the Vulcan's reactions were too swift and his retaliatory strike so strong that it sent the human flying towards the central console. Sulu and Chekov sprang to their feet, shooting Kirk identical panicked glances.

With no time to think about what he was doing, Kirk leapt towards the Vulcan and grabbed his arm. Spock whirled around, using one hand to grasp Kirk's arm and twist it behind his back. An audible tear rent the shoulder seam of Kirk's shirt as Spock raised his other hand to strike. Then his eyes caught Kirk's and he stopped as though frozen.

For a moment that seemed to drag out indefinitely, they just stared at one another. Kirk held his breath, half waiting for Spock to break his arm as though it were a twig.

Then, slowly, Spock relaxed his iron grip. Kirk took a deep breath and smiled grimly as he rubbed at his arm.

Gradually, Kirk became aware that the bridge was silent, every face turned in their direction and staring unabashedly. Kirk opened his mouth to bark them to order, but was interrupted by the human Spock, who had picked himself up from the console and was straightening his uniform in a futile attempt to recover some dignity.

"I shall be in my quarters," the human said stiffly, and before Kirk could remind him that he was still on duty, he was gone.

"Well?" Kirk snapped, turning back to the Vulcan. "Care to tell me what that was about?"

"He is emotionally unstable," the Vulcan replied. "I merely requested the use of the long-range scanner, and he reacted with unprovoked violence."

Kirk turned a disbelieving look on Sulu, but the helmsman simply shrugged and said, "That's pretty much how it happened, Captain."

Kirk frowned. "Well, Spock, the scanner's yours. And the bridge. I'm going to find out what just happened."

Kirk tried to ignore the curious eyes that followed him off the bridge, but as soon as he was alone in the turbolift he slumped against the side and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had to happen eventually, he supposed, the way they'd been glaring at each other for days, but even so. One Spock, he decided, was more than enough for any starship captain to handle.

Spock did not answer the first time Kirk buzzed for entry to his quarters, nor the second or even the fifth.

Groaning in frustration, Kirk called through the door, "Spock! Please don't make me use my override code."

The door slid open, to reveal Spock standing stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back. "I do not believe it is appropriate for you to order me to grant you admittance to my quarters."

Kirk sighed in exasperation. "You just assaulted another officer and abandoned your post. Will that do for an official reason?"

Spock went very still. "I do not believe I am fit for duty within the service. I hereby request that you assign my duties to my…counterpart, and leave me in solitude until we reach the next Starbase, upon which I can disembark."

"But Spock –"

"Just leave me alone!"

Kirk's argument died on his tongue. He could only gape blankly, stunned by the uncharacteristic outburst. Spock, too, seemed to realize, because he had gone bright red and was shuffling on his feet in a manner that could only be described as fidgeting.

"Look, Spock," Kirk tried for a softer tone. "I get that this is weird for you, not being able to suppress stuff or control it or whatever it is you do normally. But that's why I don't want to leave you on your own. If there's someone else you'd rather I sent for –"

"That is unnecessary," Spock said, his composure restored.

"I just want to help."

Spock seemed to freeze for a moment, but then he stood aside and allowed Kirk to enter. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kirk stepped inside.

He had not yet seen the human Spock's quarters. They were sparse, lacking the Vulcan accouterments, but Kirk was grateful that this Spock at least kept the room at a reasonable temperature.

"So," Kirk said once the door closed behind him. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"My conduct was unbecoming of a Starfleet officer."

"Hey." Kirk laid a hand on Spock's arm, but seemed to lose what he had been about to say. Instead, he just smiled, gently squeezed Spock's arm and said, "It's not like he can't handle himself. Did he hurt you?"

Kirk's hand moved up to Spock's face, where the beginnings of bruises were already starting to form. Kirk ran his thumb over them, looking for the telltale wince that would let him know if there was any deeper damage, but Spock's dark eyes locked steadily on his.

Spock's voice was barely more than a whisper as he said, "There is no lasting damage, Jim."

"Okay," said Kirk, but he did not remove his hand. The air seemed to be closing around him, as stifling as the Vulcan's quarters had ever felt, and his breath was catching in his throat. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were, and of the contact that Spock was not flinching from.

Emboldened, Kirk traced his thumb over Spock's cheekbone. A slight shiver seemed to pass through Spock; his eyes closed as he leaned almost imperceptibly into the touch.

Kirk's head was buzzing. All he'd have to do was lean in just a little, and the craziest part was that he didn't think Spock would mind. He took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned in, until he could feel Spock's breath warm against his skin. He idly touched Spock's ear, running his thumb over the newly human shape.

And then he took a step back, exhaled slowly and looked away. He did not want this, not with the human who was only half of his friend.

"I should go," he said, not bothering to make an excuse.

"Indeed, I believe that would be advisable."

As he left, Kirk convinced himself that he had not heard sadness in that voice.

He was so distracted that he didn't notice Uhura standing outside until he ploughed into her.

"So?" she prompted, roughly pushing him away and straightening her uniform. "What happened?"

Kirk simply stared blankly at her for a moment, then, when she started to look concerned, replied, "I do not know."

It was such an exact imitation of Spock that her lips quirked into a smile. Kirk gestured towards Spock's door. "You want to try?"

"No," she replied. "I came here to find you, actually."

Shoving his discomfiting thoughts to the back of his mind as best he could, Kirk adopted his most cocky grin and said, "Knew you'd come to your senses eventually. How about you step into my quarters?"

She responded with a derisive snort, but followed him anyway. Once they were alone, she turned on him. "When are you going to put a stop to this?"

"What? I wasn't even there!"

"You know what I mean."

"No, actually, I don't," Kirk said, honestly.

"Spock."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously. But what about him? Um, them? There are so many levels of messed-up here, you've gotta be more specific."

Uhura crossed her arms over her chest. "You know the Vulcan one wants to leave?"

"Yeah, he told me." Kirk sat on the edge of his desk and sighed at the ceiling. "And now the human's talking about going too."

"So it does bother you?"

"Of course it does," Kirk snapped, glaring at her. "I like them both, but…"

Uhura raised her eyebrow in a passable imitation of Spock's questioning expression. "But?" she prompted.

Kirk shrugged and looked down. "I miss him."

Uhura's posture relaxed and she leaned back against the bulkhead. "Yeah," she sighed. "So do I."

They were silent for a moment, sharing wordless sadness. Then Kirk realized what she'd said, and asked, "You mean you…?"

"Good grief, no," she laughed. "We get along much better as friends."

"Huh," said Kirk, who couldn't imagine that.

"You know, he actually talked to me more afterwards than he did before."

"And now?"

Uhura threw up her hands and huffed. "They're too damn stubborn to see they're still the same person."

"Tell me about it," Kirk agreed.

"So are you going to put a stop to it?"

"How?" Kirk demanded. "No, really, if you have an answer to this –"

"You know the answer," Uhura interrupted. "I already talked to Scotty about putting them back together. He says he can do it, and he says he told you so too."

"And any bright ideas as to how we get them to agree to this?"

"You're the captain. Make it an order."

"I can't do that," Kirk sighed. "Not if this is what they want."

"Is it?"

"Yes. I've asked."

"And you believe them?"

Kirk thought about that. He could certainly see that the human would like to be Vulcan again, especially having just had his emotional and physical frailty demonstrated, but the Vulcan?

"The Vulcan's got what he always wanted." Kirk gave a defeated sigh. "Hasn't he?"

As though from a distant memory, words drifted across his mind: _Having is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true._

Kirk's head snapped up. Where had that come from?

Uhura cocked her head and asked, pointedly, "Is that really what you think?"

"No," said Kirk, slowly, though he had no idea where his sudden certainty came from. "Is that why he wants to leave?"

Uhura shrugged. "He won't say, but there's something going on."

"He's suddenly all about rebuilding the race or whatever," Kirk agreed. "Any idea what's brought it on?"

Uhura looked away, uncomfortable, before slowly replying. "I'm not sure...there are rumors."

"Oh?"

"He won't talk about it. But I've heard… you know there are no – almost no – unbonded adult Vulcans? There are stories about why. Some of them are way too crazy to be true… And anyway, I get the impression he's running away from something rather than to anything else." She fixed him with a pointed glare, as though he were somehow responsible for this.

"Hey, I didn't do anything to make him want to leave," Kirk insisted. Uhura made a non-committal sound that suggested he was missing the point. Frowning, he added, "His story didn't sound convincing to me, either. I mean, I know he feels a bit guilty about not being there, but that's ridiculous, since there's already another one of him over there anyway. And how many Spocks can this universe handle, anyway?"

Uhura chuckled. "He'll be able to set up his own colony soon."

"A colony of Spocks," Kirk mused. "That would be kind of awesome."

"You mean terrifying."

"That too."

They grinned at each other, then collapsed into laughter. After a while, Kirk hopped off the desk and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, I have orders to give, and you're helping me make them go through with it."

"Captain Kirk to Mr. Spock," Kirk addressed the comm pickup. "And…er…other Mr. Spock. Both of you are to report to the transporter room immediately."

He flashed another grin towards Uhura, who responded in kind and followed him down the corridor to the transporter room.

Scotty was on duty when they arrived, and beamed when Kirk filled him in.

"That's great!" he declared. "So I get to test this re-integration thingamabob after all?"

"Test?" Kirk turned on him, eyebrows raised.

"Well," Scotty shrugged, "I'm sure it works. Honest."

"How sure?" Kirk pressed, suddenly nervous.

"I tested it," Scotty insisted it. "On, well, a plant."

"You're trusting this on the basis that it works on a plant?"

"Well, it were a hybrid plant o' Mr. Sulu's. I got it to split up _and_ join back together. Great bit o' machinery, this."

Kirk frowned, still a little dubious. He did not have time to quiz Scotty further, though, because the two Spocks arrived together, still glaring daggers at one another.

"Is there some emergency on the planet?" the Vulcan enquired.

"Nope," said Kirk. "Get on the transporter pad, both of you."

The Spocks exchanged confused glances, first with him and then with each other.

"We're joinin' ye back together," Scotty explained.

"Captain," said the Vulcan tersely. "I must protest."

"Likewise," said the human. "I thought we had agreed –"

Kirk held up a hand to silence them. "This is a direct order. I have determined that this," he waved a hand between them, "is interfering with the performance of your duties. Therefore, in my capacity as your commanding officer, I'm saying transporter. Now."

The Vulcan stilled, his reluctance obviously at odds with his sense of duty. After a long silence, he finally said, "Very well," and stepped onto the transporter pad.

Kirk turned to the human and motioned for him to follow. Instead, the human Spock took a step towards him and pulled him into the corner of the room.

His eyes fixed on the floor, Spock addressed him in a low voice. "Jim, do not ask this of me. I will not… care for you when I am a Vulcan."

Kirk laid a hand on Spock's shoulder and waited for his eyes to lift and meet his.

_When I feel friendship for you,_ Spock's voice echoed in his head, _I am ashamed_. Only…Spock had never said that, had never confessed any sort of friendship for him.

Kirk shoved the thought to the back of his mind and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Bullshit."

With that, he pushed Spock towards the transporter and moved over to the console to stand with Scotty. "Energize," he commanded.

As the transporter flickered into life, Kirk held the human Spock's gaze. He felt momentary grief and the sudden, crushing emptiness of loss as two figures faded from view.

There was a brief pause. Then the transporter came back to life, and a single figure materialized before them. Kirk took a step towards him, holding his breath.

Spock held himself rigidly, with his hands behind his back. His skin had a greenish pallor, his eyebrows were upswept and his ears tapered into a point. Yet when he blinked at Kirk, his eyes were full of human warmth.

Kirk exhaled, and laughed in relief. "Welcome home."

Spock stepped down slowly from the transporter pad, his gaze raking over Kirk in a way that made him flush all over. Then their eyes met; Kirk smiled and gave him a questioning glance. Spock remained still a moment longer, holding Kirk's gaze unflinchingly. Then, as though shutters had fallen down around him, his eyes glazed over and he turned away.

Kirk could only watch, shaken, as Spock brushed him aside and stalked from the transporter room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise is sent to the Vulcan colony, where all is not as it seems.

"Spock!"

Kirk heaved a sigh and glared at the closed door to Spock's quarters. For an allegedly unemotional Vulcan, Spock was making an awfully regular habit of stalking off.

He tried the buzzer again, to no avail.

"Okay, that's it," he called through the door. "I'm using my override code."

He hesitated a moment, giving Spock a chance to be reasonable, and then carried out his threat. As the door slid open, Kirk marched in, fully prepared to begin a lengthy rant.

The moment he stepped inside, he stopped short. The first thing he noticed was that the environmental controls were set to a tolerable temperature – warm, but not unbearably so – which was unusual, and then that the room was unmistakably empty.

Feeling decidedly foolish, Kirk checked the bathroom, but that was empty too. He sighed and sat on the corner of the desk, scratching idly at the surface.

He rarely came to Spock's quarters; his own were larger, marginally, and the temperature more comfortable. He remembered the first time he'd visited Spock's room; he'd found it oppressive, with the heat and the scent of incense. Somewhere along the line, though, he must have gotten used to his alien first officer; now the heat was comforting, and the smell reminded him of Spock in a way that could only be described as pleasant.

Spock, whom he was supposed to be looking for. Kirk snapped himself back to attention and – grudgingly admitting to himself that he really should have tried this first – said, "Computer, locate –"

He was interrupted by the whoosh of the door as it opened to reveal a very surprised first officer.

Of course, this was Spock, so his expression of extreme shock consisted of a single raised eyebrow, but Kirk knew the sign.

He was also carrying a box, which he deposited on the desk beside Kirk without a word.

"Where've you been?" Kirk asked, going for casual, as though it were perfectly reasonable for him to be found sitting on the desk in Spock's quarters.

"I thought it would be logical to retrieve my belongings from the second cabin I was assigned, since I no longer have a use for it." Spock's tone was neutral, but there was a deceptive stiffness to it.

"Oh." Kirk frowned. "That is…logical."

"May I inquire as to what it is you require of me?"

Kirk took a deep breath. There was so much to say: he was concerned, because Spock had just been reintegrated into one body and that had to do weird things to a guy's head; he was nervous, because he had been the one to order said reintegration and was only mostly sure he'd done the right thing; he was anxious because he'd somehow developed feelings for Spock that were not at all professional and had come terrifyingly close to acting on them, with half of him anyway. Kirk exhaled with a shrug and settled for, "You okay?"

"There are no physical abnormalities."

"Not what I asked," Kirk sighed. "Aren't you going to yell at me?"

For a frightening moment, Spock looked as though he was considering it, but then he said, "I consider it inappropriate that you abused your privilege as Captain to gain access to my quarters, but do not believe that yelling, as you put it, would in any way influence your future behavior."

Despite his inner turmoil, Kirk laughed. "Okay, but that's not what I meant. Are you mad that I ordered you back into one piece?"

"I have no feelings on the matter."

Spock almost – almost – maintained his neutral expression, and Kirk had to privately acknowledge that a few weeks back he wouldn't have noticed the difference, but the way his eyes flickered to the side gave him away. Now wasn't the time to goad Spock for losing his composure, yet it was a reassuring sign that the human was still in there.

Kirk realized he was grinning only when Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry," he said. "I guess I'm just pleased to have you back."

For a while, Spock simply looked at him. There was a furrow in his brow, as though Kirk were an equation he was trying to solve. Kirk resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny.

"If you would excuse me," Spock said at last, "I require meditation. I have multiple memories covering the last several days, and integrating them is…complex."

"Oh. Right." Kirk jumped down from the desk, then paused. They were standing so close, and it was unnerving how aware he was of their proximity now; it made his skin prickle and his head swim. He glanced at Spock, then away, at the door. "You remember… that is, you have both sets of memories, then?"

"Affirmative."

Was Spock's voice huskier than usual, or was it Kirk's imagination? He dared another glance, and their eyes met and held. And then, in an instant, he knew that Spock remembered.

It took all of Kirk's strength to look away, and when he did he felt strangely dizzy. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Meditate. Come find me when you're done, though, okay?"

"If you wish."

Kirk nodded and made straight for the door. He did not look back, lest his strength fail him.

*

"You have got to be kidding me."

Kirk slumped at his desk and scowled at the computer screen, where Admiral Pike looked back with an expression of amused tolerance.

"You're the best-placed ship for the job," Pike explained.

"But it's a job for a cargo ship," Kirk protested.

"Starfleet resources are stretched thin. The successful establishment of the Vulcan colony is the Federation's top priority."

"I know," Kirk sighed. "But mine is also the only ship with a Vulcan crewmember."

Pike gave him a grim smile. "Why do you think you've escaped this duty for so long? Regardless, I am quite sure that Commander Spock is professional enough –"

"That's not the problem."

Kirk drummed his fingers against the desk and frowned at it as he recalled Spock's wish to leave Starfleet for the new Vulcan colony. He was sure that seeing the place would only strengthen Spock's resolve to go, and if that happened Kirk wasn't sure he would have the heart to refuse.

"Nonetheless, those are your orders," said Pike, not unkindly. "Whatever the problem is, I have no doubt you'll work it out."

"Of course, sir." Kirk gave a weak smile. "Kirk out."

As the screen flickered off, Kirk closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. With a heavy sigh, he concluded there was no point delaying the inevitable and reached for the intercom button. "Kirk to bridge."

"Spock here," came the reply.

"Mr. Spock, report to my quarters please."

"Understood."

While he waited, Kirk idly scanned an engineering report, but the words drifted unnoticed through his head. It was ridiculous to fret over this assignment; after all, Pike was right about the need for resources to be pooled to aid the new colony. It was remarkable, in the circumstances, that an exploratory mission had been approved at all; he couldn't really begrudge the loss of a couple weeks to transport some much-needed supplies.

Of course, that wasn't the problem. Yes, it was a blow to his pride for his beloved _Enterprise_ to be relegated to cargo duty, but the need was clear. That wasn't what made his gut clench at the thought of visiting the Vulcan colony.

Kirk was startled from his contemplation by the sound of the buzzer. He called "Enter," in such a distracted tone that Spock looked at him askance before taking his seat across the desk.

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

Kirk took time to compose himself before replying, shutting off his computer terminal and taking a deep breath. "No," he said simply. "We just have new orders."

Spock inclined his head in question, his curiosity evident, but remained silent, waiting for Kirk to continue.

"We're to go to Starbase 18 to pick up supplies and deliver them to the Vulcan colony," Kirk said in one breath without meeting Spock's eyes.

There was a pause. Kirk took a deep breath, but when Spock gave no response, he carefully glanced over. Spock's expression was entirely blank.

"Are you going to be okay with this?" Kirk ventured.

"I admit I find it unusual that the Federation's flagship should be used to transport cargo. Is there an additional purpose to this mission?"

Kirk shrugged. "If so, they haven't told me. Seems they're low on ships, and we're in the area on a low-priority mission, so…"

"I understand. Then it is logical. I shall return to the bridge to order the course change."

"Hang on." Kirk waited while Spock sat back down. "I can do that."

"Then I can only surmise that there was another reason you called me here."

Kirk leaned back in his chair and heaved a sigh. "Well, yeah. I mean, we're going to the Vulcan colony. I didn't want to spring that on you in front of everyone. Are you okay with it?"

Spock's brow furrowed slightly, as though he'd been posed a deeply technical question that required careful calculation. Eventually, he replied slowly, "I shall do my duty as ordered."

"Right, I know. But you can't tell me you have no feelings one way or the other about this."

Spock looked as though he were going to give a dismissive response, but then Kirk caught his gaze and something in his face shifted. "No," Spock conceded at last. "Indeed, I shall be most interested to see how the new colony is developing."

"Interested?" Kirk frowned.

"Indeed."

"Okay then."

Kirk hesitated, considered pushing the matter further, but thought better of it. He rose to leave, and Spock followed suit and preceded him to the door. Just as the door slid open, Kirk called, "Wait."

Spock turned back towards him and took a step away from the door so that it slid closed. He slowly lifted one eyebrow and clasped his hands behind his back.

Kirk simply held his gaze for a moment, unsure what he had intended to say. In the end, he settled for, "How did your meditation go?"

He mentally kicked himself as both of Spock's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. What sort of a ridiculously personal question was that? He tried again. "I mean, do you need any time off to recover from…you know?"

Spock cocked his head as he replied, "I am functioning quite adequately, thank you Captain."

Spock turned back towards the door. Before he could stop himself, Kirk blurted, "I don't want you to leave."

Spock paused, then turned around, his eyes narrowed. "There is another matter for which I am required?"

"No," Kirk laughed. "I don't mean here, now. I mean I don't want you to leave the _Enterprise_."

"I am only four-point-six months into a five-year deployment."

"I know." Kirk perched on the edge of his desk and ran a hand through his hair. "But before, when you were split, you – that is, both of you – talked about leaving."

Spock fixed his gaze on the opposite wall as he replied, "I do not believe that is an option, now that there is only one of me."

"It's always an option. That is, if you really wanted it, I would understand and I would make it happen. I just… I would rather you stayed."

Spock's head jerked suddenly in his direction, and Kirk felt physically pinned by the force of the Vulcan's gaze. Spock's hands flexed, then he clasped them behind his back. For a moment, he seemed almost to flounder for a response, before he settled for, "I thank you for your consideration, but I can assure you that will not be necessary. I am committed to fulfilling my duty to Starfleet."

Kirk gave him a wry smile, but chose not to correct the assumption that it was Spock's duty to Starfleet that concerned him. "Well," he said, "we'll see how you feel once you see the new colony."

"Fascinating. You believe that seeing the colony will change my mind."

"Maybe."

"I see no logic in that. I am already aware of the existence of the colony, of its purpose and difficulties."

"Knowing and seeing are different things."

"Perhaps," Spock acknowledged. "To a human."

"Then if half of you is tempted to stay there, will you discuss it with me first?"

Spock looked discomfited; Kirk supposed that reminding him of the weaknesses of his human half was not his most tactful move ever, but he held firm. Eventually, Spock gave a slight nod and agreed, "Yes, Jim."

Unable to conceal his overwhelming relief, Kirk smiled. Then, at Spock's bemused expression, he laughed and hopped down from the desk. As he passed Spock, he laid a hand on his arm and guided him towards the door. Spock momentarily tensed at the contact, then followed him in silence.

By the time they reached the bridge, Kirk was almost humming with pleasure at the small victory. He was in such high spirits that when he explained their mission to the bridge crew, he was taken aback by their disgruntled response.

"They're sending the _Enterprise_ to haul cargo?" Sulu scoffed.

"Do I look like a delivery boy?" Chekov added.

Kirk took his seat and assumed his command pose with his legs crossed. "You have your orders. Plot a course to Starbase 18, Ensign."

"Yes, Keptin," Chekov sighed.

Kirk caught Sulu shooting a sympathetic glance along the console, and immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. "Starbase 18 is supposed to have some great bars," he offered.

Chekov gave a reluctant smile. "Course plotted and laid in, Keptin."

"Ahead warp factor four," Kirk commanded.

"Aye, sir," said Sulu.

Once they had jumped to warp, Sulu turned around and said, "So, do we get shore leave while the ship's being loaded up?"

"Don't see why not," Kirk agreed.

At that, the crew seemed mollified, and the remainder of the shift was interspersed with Sulu and Chekov's descriptions of various drinking games they had enjoyed at the Academy. Normally, Kirk would contribute to that kind of discussion, but he found he was strangely preoccupied. Though his thoughts had no particular direction, his gaze strayed frequently to his right. He was sure the rest of the crew must have noticed, but no one seemed to be looking in their direction.

Occasionally, he would catch Spock looking back at him, and it was all he could do to wrench his attention away, uncharacteristically flustered by unwelcome thoughts.

*

"Hey, Jim." McCoy appeared from behind Kirk and clapped him vigorously on the back. "Coming to terrorize the women of Starbase 18?"

Kirk gave a rueful laugh. McCoy could have no idea how much he needed that kind of distraction, but duty came first these days. "You'll have to terrorize them for the both of us. I'm staying here to oversee the loading up."

"That is unnecessary, Captain," said Spock, appearing beside him as though from nowhere. "I can provide adequate supervision, if such is required."

"I thought I ordered you to take shore leave?"

"I am not in need of rest at this time."

Kirk frowned, doubting that. "Anyway, it's not so much that they need supervising. I just thought it would help morale for the ones that don't get to take shore leave if they see I'm not off enjoying myself either."

McCoy snorted. "They'll probably get it done twice as fast if their captain's not peering over their shoulders, then they can be in the bar before we've finished round three."

"On this occasion," said Spock, "I am inclined to agree with the doctor."

"Really?" Kirk cast an amused glance between his two friends.

"Really?" McCoy echoed, smirking at Spock.

"Indeed, illogical though the human habit of resting through the expenditure of energy may seem, I believe it is imperative that you take rest when the opportunity arises."

"I see." Kirk forced a smile, but his head was reeling as he realized that he simply didn't want to leave. "Well, it's a good thing I'm the captain, isn't it? Bones, I'm ordering you to go have fun, and try to keep the rest of the crew out of mischief. Spock, if you insist on staying here then you may as well help me."

McCoy scowled between Kirk and Spock, but said nothing, though he shook his head and muttered something unintelligible under his breath as he turned to leave.

Judging by Spock's raised eyebrow, he heard whatever it was McCoy had said. They started to walk towards the cargo bay, and once they were alone, he explained, "The doctor evidently questions your motives for remaining on board."

"Well," Kirk conceded, "he's probably not far wrong." Cringing inwardly at his own forthrightness, he added, not entirely truthfully, "It's less fun getting drunk with people when you're their commanding officer. And probably less fun for them to have their captain present."

"I would not know," Spock replied.

"No," Kirk smiled. "I guess you wouldn't."

*

Spock and McCoy were right; Kirk's supervision was really not required. He felt some pride in seeing how capably his crew went about their jobs, but was nonetheless just a little put out at how superfluous he felt.

Still, it enabled him to spend time with Spock, and though they spent more time helping to move boxes or simply moving out of the crew's way than anything else, it was more enjoyable than it had any right to be.

Eventually, even Kirk had to admit there was nothing more to do, and began to pace the cargo bay almost willing a problem to arise. Eventually, Spock seemed to tire of his restlessness and suggested, "Perhaps you should proceed to the Starbase. I can ensure that everything is in order here."

"I suppose. But then you're not really needed here either. Scotty refuses to leave the ship, he can take over."

"Are you suggesting I accompany you to a bar?"

"Well, yeah. Let your hair down a bit, it'll be good for you."

With a single raised eyebrow, Spock managed to convey how ridiculous he thought that statement was.

"I could make it an order," Kirk pressed.

"I do not believe that is within your remit as Captain."

"Fine," Kirk sighed. "Chess, then?"

Spock looked as taken aback as his neutral expression allowed. "You do not intend to join Doctor McCoy in – how did you put it? – 'terrorizing' the inhabitants of Starbase 18?"

Kirk laughed, mildly embarrassed that Spock had overheard that. "Apparently not. And that doesn't answer my question."

For a moment, Spock just watched the loading crew in their polished routine. Kirk was about to repeat the question when at last Spock said, "Chess would be agreeable."

They left Scotty in charge and made their way to Kirk's quarters through an empty ship. The lack of crew made Kirk uneasy, and teased at something at the back of his mind like a long-forgotten memory.

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

Kirk looked over at Spock, startled. "No," he said hurriedly. Then, after a pause, he added, "I just don't like seeing the _Enterprise_ empty." He did not add that he felt as though that had happened before, because of course it had not, however sure Kirk was otherwise.

"The ship is not empty," Spock reminded him. "There is a skeleton crew on duty, should we be required to depart in haste."

"Yeah, I know."

"And I am here."

At that, Kirk relaxed and gave him a warm smile. "Yeah," he said, "you are."

By the time they were seated at the chessboard in Kirk's quarters, he had forgotten all about his nagging doubts.

Apparently, Spock hadn't. Before making his first move, he asked, "You would not rather be on the Starbase becoming intoxicated with the doctor?"

"Actually, no." Kirk gave a small laugh and fiddled nervously with one of his chess pieces. "But don't tell Bones that, he'll think there's something wrong with me."

Spock simply looked at him, the weight of his gaze almost tangible. Kirk pretended to be studying the board intently, and in an effort to break the tension made his first move.

Spock raised his hand towards his knight, but then withdrew and sat back in his chair.

"I believe I owe you an apology," he said slowly.

Somewhat thrown, Kirk sat up straight and frowned. "Really? For what?"

"For the actions of…my human side."

It took a moment for Kirk to process this, but when he did he had to fight to keep down a blush. "No need," he choked out.

"I –"

"Did nothing wrong," Kirk interrupted, though he found himself unable to meet Spock's eyes.

Of course, he'd known that Spock would regret his almost-transgression as soon as his human and Vulcan sides were recombined, but it still hurt. Perhaps he should have just gone for it while he had the chance; sure, the Vulcan Spock would have left, but wouldn't it be better to have half of him than none of him?

"I shall have you checkmated in three moves," Spock observed a short while later. "I surmise that you are not entirely focused on the game."

Kirk frowned at the board and made one of his trademarked reckless moves. "Or just trying to lull you into a false sense of security," he lied.

Spock pursed his lips and his eyes darted across the board in a gesture that was the closest he ever got to expressing irritation. When he made his move, his hands twitched, a sign Kirk had learnt meant that he was on edge.

When their eyes met, Spock's eyebrow quirked. "You are amused."

"Maybe a little."

As the slightest hint of green suffused Spock's cheeks, Kirk sat back and smiled; it was, after all, Spock's very alienness that made him so enthralling, and he would take this tentative friendship with the complete Spock over whatever he might have had with the human version any day.

Spock looked him directly in the eye as he declared, "Checkmate."

Kirk held his gaze as he leaned over to reset the board. "Best of three?"

*

The following morning at breakfast, Kirk was joined by a scowling McCoy, whom he greeted with the brightest smile he could muster.

"'Sup, Bones?"

"Keep your voice down," McCoy growled.

"Hung over, are we?"

McCoy's answering glower only broadened Kirk's grin.

"What are you so cheerful about, anyway?" McCoy grouched. "Or don't I want to know?"

Kirk shrugged. "Not often I get to gloat over other people's hangovers without having one myself. Gotta make the most of it, you know?"

"So why didn't you come?"

"Couldn't leave my girl behind." Kirk slapped the table for emphasis.

McCoy snorted and turned his attention back to his breakfast, but his expression darkened further when Spock came over to join them.

"Careful," Kirk advised Spock, "Bones is in an even fouler mood than usual."

McCoy made an indignant sound but did not dispute the point.

"The human habit of consuming substances known to be harmful to their physiology is most illogical," Spock observed.

"It's called having fun," McCoy grouched. "Something you wouldn't know about."

"Actually, we had great fun last night," said Kirk indignantly.

McCoy looked skeptical, but Kirk barely noticed for the fleeting look of outright surprise on Spock's face. His neutral expression was swiftly restored, though, and his voice was calm as he said, "I sincerely hope that not all of the crew chose to overindulge, or the Federation's flagship will be under dubious command."

"Like it's not already," McCoy scoffed, glaring at Kirk.

"On the contrary, I believe the _Enterprise_ is in quite capable hands," said Spock.

Kirk grinned, surprised, and glared back at McCoy. "Thanks, Spock."

McCoy simply rolled his eyes.

*

Kirk and Spock proceeded directly to the bridge after breakfast, only to find they were the first to arrive.

"Think we can fly her between the two of us?" Kirk joked.

"Are you qualified as a pilot?" Spock enquired, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

"Well, no," Kirk shrugged, "but how hard can it be? I think I've seen which buttons Sulu presses."

He leaned over the console and peered at the various controls on the screen. "I think…this one…"

"If I may make a suggestion," said Spock, moving to stand close beside him and peering over his shoulder at the controls, "initiating the start-up sequence would have better results at this stage."

"Right," said Kirk, giving an involuntary shiver at the proximity. "I knew that."

Just then, the doors opened, and Spock sprang away from him as though he'd been burned. Kirk turned around slowly, to see Sulu and Chekov emerge from the turbolift looking decidedly the worse for wear.

"You guys look like death warmed over," said Kirk. Then, narrowing his eyes at Sulu, "You okay to drive?"

"Yeah," Sulu groaned, "didn't actually drink much, just had no sleep."

As Kirk turned to exchange a glance with Spock, he noticed Chekov blushing fiercely. Curious but trying not to show it, Kirk retreated to the command chair and sat back with his legs crossed. He knew it was ridiculous to feel left out; after all, it had been his own choice to stay behind.

Moments later, Uhura arrived looking as polished as ever, much to the annoyance of Kirk, who was feeling irritable now and had been hoping for the opportunity to goad her just a little. Without a word, she crossed over to the front console and deposited steaming cups of coffee in front of Sulu and Chekov, who both responded with grateful smiles.

His curiosity piqued, Kirk watched the three of them exchange a few hushed words, but couldn't make any of them out. Eventually, he caved and asked in the most casual tone he could manage, "Heavy night?"

"Epic poker," Sulu replied. He gestured towards Chekov and added, "Don't ever believe a word this one tells you."

Chekov made an indignant sound that was somewhat undermined by a swiftly suppressed giggle. Kirk was sure he was missing something, and that bothered him more than he would like to admit. In an attempt to appear disinterested, he turned around to Uhura, who was logging into her station. Then she swiveled around, and her voice was pure professionalism as she announced, "Engineering reports ready for launch."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Kirk. "Ensign Chekov, set a course for New Vulcan –" Kirk cut himself off when he heard a snort behind him. "Problem, Lieutenant?"

"The colony has a name, Captain," said Uhura, and proceeded to spout a string of barely pronounceable syllables.

Kirk narrowed his eyes at her, then turned to Sulu and Chekov, who wore identically confused expressions. He settled back in his chair and glanced over at Spock. "'New Vulcan' it is."

"Yes, Keptin," Chekov sounded relieved. "Course is laid in."

Keeping his gaze fixed on Spock, Kirk smiled. "Take us out, Mr. Sulu."

*

The journey to New Vulcan took only three days, a remarkably short trip in galactic terms. Kirk supposed that had probably been a factor in the choice of planet, so as to expedite the delivery of supplies.

As they dropped out of warp, everyone craned forwards to catch the first glimpse of the planet. It loomed up in the viewscreen, and Kirk was instantly struck by how much it resembled Earth; it was almost entirely covered in water, with three continents visible on the hemisphere facing them.

He instinctively glanced towards Spock, and was surprised to see that Spock was watching him rather than the approaching planet. Kirk inclined his head in question, and Spock read the implicit invitation and came to stand beside him.

"It's very blue," Kirk observed, watching carefully for any reaction that might give away how Spock felt about seeing his species' new home.

"Water is a requirement for sustaining life."

"True, but –"

"Vulcan was not always as arid as it became," Spock continued in a low voice. "And while we came to adapt to the environment, it was not ideal."

"I suppose. But it's what you're used to, isn't it?"

"That is not logical. It is more efficient to locate the planet best suited for the inhabitants' purposes than to yield to an emotional need."

"I see," Kirk murmured, still watching Spock's face carefully.

Perhaps sensing the scrutiny, Spock turned his head to look down at him. "Nonetheless, you will note that the initial settlement is close to the planet's equator, in a desert region."

"Ah," Kirk smiled, "so there's a little bit of yielding to emotional needs going on, then?"

"Evidently."

"Entering orbit now," Sulu called over to them, abruptly snapping Kirk's attention back to the viewscreen.

"Captain, we're being hailed," Uhura added.

"On screen," Kirk ordered.

He instinctively assumed his command pose, leaning back and crossing his legs, but his easy confidence was suddenly shattered when the image that flickered into view was that of Sarek. Spock immediately stepped away from him and returned to his own station, out of view of the cameras.

"Captain Kirk," Sarek greeted him in a solemn tone. He seemed to hesitate over the word 'captain,' though that could have just been Kirk's paranoia.

"Ambassador," Kirk replied. He glanced over at Spock, but his attention was glued to the scanner.

"Transmitting beam-down coordinates to you now."

Kirk opened his mouth to make an acknowledgment, but before he could speak, the screen had flickered off, leaving them with the view of the planet from orbit.

"Okay," Kirk shrugged. "He's a bit abrupt, isn't he?"

"Vulcans do not engage in small talk, Captain," Spock reminded him wearily.

"That's right," Kirk smirked at Spock's back. "I keep forgetting I have an especially chatty Vulcan."

Uhura made a choked sound at that and turned a glare on him, to which Kirk responded with a dazzling smile.

"Uhura, transporter room in ten minutes, and have Doctor McCoy and Mr. Scott join us."

"Yes, Captain."

Kirk turned an expectant look on Spock, who immediately rose to follow him into the turbolift. Once the doors had closed behind them, Kirk eyed him carefully. "You okay?"

"Quite well, Captain."

"Is it a problem that Sarek's the one greeting us?"

"He is Ambassador to Earth; it is quite logical that he should greet a Federation ship."

"So you're not going to tell me why you darted out of the picture so fast the moment he appeared?"

"The scanners required my attention."

"Of course they did." Kirk waited a moment, then cast a sidelong look at Spock, who was holding himself stiffly and staring at the opposite wall. "So, does he know about…you know, other you? Spock Senior?"

It still felt strange talking to Spock about his older counterpart, after the effort he had expended in keeping the elder's existence a secret. With a small inward smile, he realized that Spock Senior was probably on the colony, and he might soon be able to take him to task for his deceit.

"I do not know," Spock admitted.

"You and your dad don't talk much?"

"He has kept me apprised of developments in the new colony. He has never had cause to mention my…other self."

"Huh." Kirk frowned before adding, "Must be weird for him, having a version of his son turn up who's older than him. Seems like something he would have mentioned."

"If he is aware of his identity."

"So you think he doesn't know," Kirk surmised. "Anything else I should know?"

"I assume you have read the reports on the colony?"

"Sure, but I meant about dealing with your dad."

"There is nothing of which I am aware. You have proven relatively adept at accommodating Vulcan customs."

"Relatively?"

"For a human."

There was no alteration in Spock's neutral expression, but Kirk was sure he saw a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Kirk felt unusually anxious as they beamed down to the planet. He knew it was irrational – after all, it was really no different to meeting any other dignitary – yet he felt strangely invested this time; though he would never admit it to anyone, he was anxious that Spock's father approve of him.

As it happened, the Vulcans sent more than just Sarek to greet them; it seemed the entire High Council was there. Kirk instinctively scanned the group, hoping to see Spock Senior. He was nowhere to be seen, though; Kirk let out only the slightest disappointed sigh at that, and out of the corner of his eye he caught a reproachful glare from his Spock.

It was a struggle to maintain his confident demeanor as he introduced his crew to the assembled Vulcans. They all seemed to be staring intently at Spock, though Kirk could not read the reason in their stony faces. Spock held up well under the scrutiny, holding himself straight with his hands clasped at the small of his back and his expression entirely neutral. Kirk watched him carefully for a moment, wondering what was going on there, and only belatedly realized that Sarek had asked him a question.

"We have a shipment of communications equipment for you," said Kirk, taking a wild guess at what he'd been asked. "Mr. Scott will set it up, and Lieutenant Uhura will show your people how to work it."

"And the quadrotriticale?" Sarek inquired.

Perhaps sensing Kirk's hesitation, Spock said under his breath, "The grain."

"Of course," said Kirk, turning a questioning glance on Scotty and Uhura. 

"We can take care of that too," Uhura confirmed.

"We are indebted to you," said Sarek, though his expression did not shift from its stern and slightly bored setting. "If your crew will proceed, Captain –" again, he hesitated over the word – "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

Kirk stopped short, surprised. His immediate suspicion that there was more to this mission than they had been led to believe was matched by the sidelong glance Spock shot towards him. "Of course," said Kirk warily. "Bones, Spock?"

Spock's posture noticeably stiffened. "I believe I should remain, to –" He cut himself off when he caught Kirk's eye. "As you wish, Captain."

Kirk smiled, then turned to McCoy, who simply rolled his eyes. Taking that as assent, Kirk nodded at Sarek, who slowly and pointedly turned his inscrutable gaze from Spock to Kirk, then silently led them away.

The locale of the initial Vulcan settlement had clearly been chosen to most closely resemble their former home, being hot and dry. The landscape was scattered with indigenous vegetation; sprawling plants with bulbous leaves. What struck Kirk most was how small and plain the settlement was, the many areas of building work being interspersed with drab, prefabricated shelters.

Even in the heat of the midday sun, the Vulcans were hard at work at the many building sites. Sarek said little as he led them through the colony, pausing only briefly to point out the new katric ark to Spock in a tone devoid of any feeling. Kirk felt a surge of annoyance at that – after all, it would have been lost were it not for Spock – but if Spock felt slighted, he gave no sign of it.

Kirk found himself consciously acting the part of captain, all too aware that Sarek's only previous encounter with him was as the obnoxious cadet who had goaded his son into strangling him. That nagging thought made his Captain Kirk persona feel like a thin veneer, and the knowledge that it was this people's tragedy that had led to his rapid promotion only added to his discomfort. To his relief, McCoy refrained from saying anything other than the strictly professional, though the tension he radiated towards Spock was almost tangible.

The sun beat down relentlessly on them as they walked, and Kirk found his demeanor slipping as his discomfort rose.

They came at last to a square, the opposite side of which was dominated by a vast, imposing building of sand-colored stone. On another side stood a smaller building, though no less grand. Sarek led them towards it, explaining, "This is the Embassy."

"And the great big thing over there?" McCoy enquired.

"The Science Academy," Sarek replied without intonation.

McCoy raised his eyebrows with a distinctly unimpressed expression, but Kirk pretended not to notice. They followed Sarek into his office, a plain room with no adornment, simply consisting of a desk and computer terminal. Once the door had closed behind them, Sarek moved to stand behind the desk. "We requested that the Federation send a senior crew."

Kirk bristled at that, but reasoned that Sarek was probably only stating a fact rather than passing judgment on him, and that he was probably imagining the disparaging tone to the Vulcan's voice.

"I was not advised that our mission was anything other than a delivery," said Kirk, hoping that open honesty would work.

"We did not wish for anyone outside of the colony to be made aware of our situation."

"To what situation are you referring?" Spock asked. Kirk wondered whether the terseness of the tone was a sign that he was indignant at being left out of the loop, or whether he was merely emulating his father's manner.

Sarek did not look at his son as he replied, "This planet is rich in raw materials, but the development of the colony must be rapid if we are to reach a position of self-sufficiency – and attain the ability to defend ourselves – within an acceptable timescale. As such, we have been reliant on other Federation members for support--building materials, technical equipment, food."

"That's supposed to be one of the points of the Federation," Kirk hedged, unsure where this was going.

"Our supplies are by no means scarce," Sarek continued. "Or there is no reason for them to be. They are carefully accounted for upon delivery, and the quantity that arrives is sufficient for our needs. Yet somehow," Sarek towards the window, tensing as though this was a personal affront to him, "our food stores are being depleted."

"You mean stuff's going missing?" Kirk clarified.

"As I said."

"Okay." Kirk looked to Spock and McCoy, but both were looking blankly at him. "Any suspects?"

"No Vulcan could do this," Sarek stated flatly.

"Vulcans do not steal," Spock explained before Kirk could question that. "It is not logical."

"Is there any other explanation? Mice, or whatever equivalent you have around here?"

"All other possibilities have been ruled out," said Sarek. "Someone is accessing our food stores."

"But you said no Vulcan would –"

"There are others here. Races who do not follow the path of logic."

"Now hang on just a minute," McCoy cut in. "You think that someone from one of the Federation ships – the ships sent here to _help_ you – has been making off with your food stores?"

"I have only come into contact with this concept – 'theft', as you call it – in my work on Earth. It is the only explanation."

McCoy made an indignant sound. Kirk was inclined to agree with him, but in the interest of human-Vulcan relations – and ever mindful that he was talking to Spock's father – decided to take Sarek's suspicions seriously. "And you want us to help you investigate this?"

"Vulcans have no experience with these matters," Sarek admitted. "Crime has not been a Vulcan concern within living memory."

"Very well," said Kirk, fighting back a smile that he knew Sarek would find distasteful. "Leave it to us; we’ll post constant guards, and we'll have your thief before you know it."

Sarek offered nothing in the way of thanks for their assistance, simply nodding his acknowledgment and then sitting down at his computer terminal in a clear gesture of dismissal. Kirk tried not to feel put out, knowing that minor social niceties were probably illogical, but he couldn't help but feel that Sarek doubted his ability to solve this problem. As he led Spock and McCoy out of the building, he felt a grim sense of determination to prove Sarek wrong, even if the doubt was a product of his own imagination.

Once in the square outside, Kirk turned to Spock. "Would you like to go spend time with your father?"

"I do not believe I am required at this time."

Kirk frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and flipped open his communicator to request Sulu and Chekov for the first shift guarding the food stores. He was determined to do this properly, which meant putting his very best people on the job; he and Spock, he reasoned, could take the night shift, when thieves – and, frankly, mice – would be more likely to act.

Just as he finished transmitting his orders to the _Enterprise_ , Kirk caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He closed his communicator and his face broke into a grin as he called, "Spock!"

"Captain?"

"Not you." Kirk he gestured with his head towards the steps of the vast Science Academy, where the figure of an elderly Vulcan was moving slowly towards them.

The younger Spock's posture stiffened, and he pursed his lips in evident distaste. McCoy's eyes became wide and round as he muttered, "Not another one."

Kirk simply chuckled at them both, too excited to care, and all but ran towards the Academy. He was poised to give an enthusiastic greeting, but stopped short when he saw the grave expression on the older Spock's face.

"Hey," he said instead, a hint of question in his tone.

A fleeting smile passed across Spock's eyes. "Jim. It is pleasing to see you again." He held Kirk's gaze silently for a moment. Kirk was pained to see sadness creep into his eyes, but could think of nothing to say. He was relieved when McCoy and his Spock came to stand on either side of him, and the older Spock's expression cleared as he nodded at his younger counterpart. Then one eyebrow shot up as he half-greeted, half-exclaimed, "Doctor McCoy. It is good to see you, old friend."

McCoy snorted and shot a glare at the younger Spock. "No way is there a universe where we were friends."

Kirk was searching his head for a suitable rebuke when he caught Spock Senior's distinctly amused glance. He grinned back and nudged McCoy. "See, Bones, I always knew you were a softie."

McCoy's response was an indignant glare, which only seemed to heighten the older Spock's amusement.

"This is fun," Kirk declared.

From his right, he heard a derisive sound from his Spock. The other Spock's eyebrow quirked. "Indeed," he said. "I regret that your presence could not have been requested in less troublesome circumstances."

"Ah," said Kirk. "You were in on bringing us here under false pretenses, then?"

The older Spock looked grave. "Not exactly, though I was pleased to hear that it was the _Enterprise_ that was to be sent here. There is something I think you should see."

"Not just for the pleasure of my company, then?" Kirk's indignation was only mostly feigned. "Seriously," he muttered, "you mind-meld with a guy, then you don't call…"

Spock turned to lead them into the building without a word, but Kirk was sure he saw the corners of his mouth twitch just a little, and decided he was going to count that as a win.

The inside of the Academy was every bit as grand as the exterior; wide marble staircases led to offices and labs fronted with transparent aluminum. Yet there was a notable lack of occupants; they passed more than one vast, gleaming laboratory that had obviously never been used. The Vulcans they did see worked mostly alone; they passed a few in the long corridors who regarded them with silent curiosity before hurrying along without a word.

"This place is insane," McCoy muttered under his breath. "They've built this massive empty place before they've even built real housing for their own people."

"Does that surprise you, Doctor?" Spock Senior said without turning around. McCoy flushed red as he realized he'd been overheard. "Vulcans have always prided themselves on their scientific achievements; it is natural that they should seek to restore that expertise as a priority."

"Vulcans do not feel pride," the younger Spock corrected.

The older Spock did turn around then, but it was Kirk he turned to with a decidedly amused glance. "As you say."

The younger Spock stiffened and moved closer to Kirk, who could almost feel the irritation radiating from him. He cocked his head in question, but Spock was looking straight ahead with an expression of grim determination and did not acknowledge him.

They walked in silence a while longer, through numerous twisting corridors and up sweeping flights of stairs, until at last they came to a large laboratory where half a dozen Vulcans – the most they had seen in one place since they'd landed on the planet – were gathered around a large, cylindrical container.

The older Spock paused outside the lab, looking in through the window. The lines of his face seemed deeper somehow, and it seemed that he looked old in a way that had not been apparent to Kirk before; suddenly, he could believe that this Spock had lived over a hundred years longer than the one he knew.

"This is what you brought us here to see," Kirk surmised.

It seemed at first that Spock had not heard, so lost was he in whatever thoughts were troubling him. Kirk moved closer to him and, without thinking what he was doing, laid a hand on his shoulder. Spock turned his head, startled, then slowly brought one hand up to lay over Kirk's.

They stood like that for a moment, until the younger Spock cleared his throat behind them and said, "Perhaps you could explain the significance of this experiment."

Spock Senior turned abruptly, as though startled from some reverie. Kirk turned a reproachful glare on his Spock, and was startled to see anger evident in the younger Spock's posture. Even more bizarrely, McCoy was glaring at Kirk in a manner that could only be described as accusatory.

"Okay Spock," Kirk sighed. "Care to fill us in?"

When he answered, Spock's voice was so low that Kirk had to strain to hear him. "They are attempting to replicate red matter."

Kirk was stunned, and could think of nothing to say.

"Are they crazy?" McCoy fumed. "Have you pointy-eared hobgoblins learned nothing?"

McCoy's voice was loud enough that the Vulcans within the lab turned to glare at him.

"Perhaps it would be wise to discuss this in a quieter location," said the older Spock.

"Of course," said Kirk, ignoring the indignant glares from the other two.

"My home is not far from here," said Spock in a tone too deliberately casual for Kirk not to believe this had been his plan all along. "I would be honored if you would join me for dinner."

"Sure," said Kirk, making no attempt to hide his enthusiasm. This earned him a withering look from McCoy and an even look from his Spock that amounted to the same, but they followed him anyway.

*

The older Spock's home was simple, like the other shelters they had passed, but somewhat set apart from the main settlement. Kirk wondered at this; did the others know who this Spock was? Did they blame him for what had happened, or was it Spock's own sense of guilt or displacement from his own time that kept him apart? He thought it impolite to ask, though, so he simply remarked, "Nice place," in a tone that sounded lame even to his own ears, because the makeshift shelter was really anything but.

His Spock's quarters on the _Enterprise_ were fairly plain by human standards. They contained just those items necessary to his existence, though his meditation supplies meant that the alien scent of incense – of which Kirk had come to be unduly fond - lingered over the place.

This Spock's minimalist existence was even more extreme; his home consisted of a single prefabricated room, containing a sofa bed, a table and chairs and the smallest kitchenette possible, with a single door leading to a bathroom. It struck Kirk more forcefully than ever just how much this Spock had lost, being thrust into a timeline that was not his own, with none of his own belongings to make him feel at home.

"Is there no way to get you back to your own timeline?" Kirk wondered aloud.

Somewhat taken aback, it took the older Spock a moment to reply. "None that current science – or even the science of my time – can devise."

"I'm sorry," said Kirk. He felt a lump rise in his throat and swallowed hard. "That's rough. Getting stuck in another universe, I mean."

"It is unfortunate," Spock agreed, "yet I am not too troubled. There is nothing waiting for me in my time. I can do more good here, helping our people to rebuild."

"Nothing?" Kirk echoed.

Spock suddenly looked away from him; Kirk followed his gaze and caught sight of the only personal accoutrement in the room, one so small he had overlooked it entirely. Beside the sofa bed, there stood a single holo, depicting Spock a century younger than he was now, with a smiling Starfleet Admiral in a red uniform. It struck Kirk as odd, because he knew that in order to have brought this with him through time, Spock must have had it when he flew the Jellyfish into the black hole. What could be so important about it that he had carried it with him even then?

As though trying to distract Kirk's attention, Spock announced with false cheer, "Fortunately, the Federation has equipped us with food synthesizers until the colony can become self-sufficient, so you shall not have to suffer my attempts at the culinary arts."

The younger Spock tensed and shot a meaningful look at Kirk, but he ignored it and said breezily, "That's a shame, I was looking forward to seeing you get your revenge on Bones for the southern food."

"I'm not eating any of that strangely-colored stuff Vulcans call food," McCoy grouched.

"Unnecessary, Doctor; the synthesizer is programmed with something similar to what you used to refer to as 'chicken fried steak'."

McCoy beamed, and the younger Spock looked vaguely nauseated.

Over dinner, conversation flowed from accounts of their recent missions, with the elder Spock recounting a few from the _Enterprise_ of his time that seemed too strange to be real, to the progress of the colony. Kirk was anxious to know more of the childhood he had had in the universe where he had known his father; Spock spoke at length about Kirk's family, demonstrating familiarity that seemed to be making McCoy and the younger Spock increasingly uncomfortable.

At length, McCoy chipped in with, "So how did Jim here wrangle his way into the Admiralty?"

The older Spock looked away, almost seeming abashed. Confused, Kirk asked, "The Admiralty? What are you –" Then his eye caught the holo on the other side of the room, and he fought back a blush. "Oh." How had it not occurred to him that he was the man in that picture? He chanced another glance over at it; obviously the figure was older than him, and decidedly rounder… but come to think of it, he couldn't deny the resemblance.

"Through the usual means," said Spock uncomfortably. "James Kirk was an exceptionally gifted commander."

Kirk grinned all the more when he saw McCoy's grimace. "Don't say things like that in front of him," McCoy grouched. "His ego's bad enough as it is."

"Of that, I have no doubt," the older Spock mused.

Kirk tried to make a face at him, but couldn't stop grinning. An _Admiral_. He wasn't over being Captain yet, but if he could do it in one universe…

Once their plates had been cleared away and they had settled back down, the older Spock said, "I regret that I must turn your attention to the matter at hand."

"Oh," said Kirk, his elation deflating suddenly as he realized how utterly out of his depth he was. What did he know about red matter, after all, other than how utterly destructive it was and that developing it was a very bad thing? If the Vulcans couldn't see that, though, then what power did he have to change their minds? He wasn't an Admiral in this universe.

"May I enquire as to whether the timeline for development of the red matter has altered in comparison with your own time?" asked the younger Spock. Kirk realized only then that this was the first time he had spoken since they had arrived at the older Spock's home.

"Indeed," said the older Spock gravely, tearing Kirk's attention away from concern for his friend. "In my time, the current state of development was not reached for one hundred and twenty-eight point two years from the current stardate."

"Meaning that here, it's less than a year away from being ready," Kirk filled in.

"Ready for what?" said McCoy. "What the hell could you people possibly want this stuff for?"

"It is a matter of scientific curiosity," the older Spock explained. "They have seen it function, and wish to learn how it worked."

"So because it can be done, it must be done?" said Kirk with skepticism.

"That is illogical," the younger Spock protested. "Any weapon of this magnitude has the capability to fall into non-Vulcan hands –"

"Because only non-Vulcans can do terrible things?" McCoy interjected.

"Gentlemen," Kirk interrupted. "I believe we're all agreed that developing this stuff is a bad thing."

The older Spock cast an appraising look over him. "I knew that you would share my concerns."

"I do," said Kirk, "I just don't see what we can do about it."

"You will think of something," said Spock. "You always do."

Kirk shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted to say, _I'm not him. I'm not Admiral Kirk_ , but that seemed cruel somehow, so he just smiled weakly and said, "Right, but I don't think knowing how to build a functioning bazooka from raw minerals is going to help me this time."

"Huh?" said McCoy. The younger Spock raised one eyebrow in a manner that conveyed the same message.

"You have encountered the Metrons and the Gorn?" said the older Spock. "That is a remarkable coincidence."

There was an awkward silence. Kirk looked down at the table, hoping he could avoid answering. Then, realizing that everyone was looking at him, he relented. "Um, not exactly," he mumbled. "I guess that's something that happened to your Kirk, then?"

"Indeed," Spock murmured. "How did you come to be in possession of this information?"

"I don't know," Kirk admitted, carefully avoiding the scrutiny of both Spocks. "Lately I just…know things. I don't always even know if they're from this universe, or the other, or even real at all. I guess you left some stuff behind when you did the weird telepathy thing?"

"That is not how melds function," said the older Spock.

Suddenly needing to prove that he wasn't crazy, Kirk blurted, "But I saw what you were thinking about, right? So maybe your mind wandered a bit."

"Vulcan minds do not _wander_ ," said the younger Spock. "That is, unless they are extraordinarily undisciplined." He fixed a scathing look on his counterpart, who responded with a raised eyebrow.

"Am I to understand you are making such accusations against yourself?" asked Spock Senior.

"I am not you. I do not lack the mental discipline necessary to transfer select information in a mind meld."

"Hey," Kirk interrupted; as much fun as it was watching these two fight, it was also tiresome beyond belief. "Give it a rest, will you? Whatever he did, I'm sure he didn't intend for it to happen."

"I can't believe you let one of them fiddle with your brain," McCoy interjected.

Kirk sighed; sometimes, being a starship captain felt awfully like being a parent. "All I want to know is, can you fix it?"

The older Spock looked deep in thought for a moment, and Kirk thought he saw his gaze flicker towards the holo across the room. At last, though, he said, "I believe this should be possible."

"Thanks," said Kirk with a smile. "So…how does that work?"

"I shall require some meditation. Perhaps, if you are able to return in the morning?"

"Sure thing," Kirk replied, just as his communicator chirruped on his belt. It was precisely Sulu and Chekov's check-in time, which was probably a good sign that nothing had gone disastrously wrong. He flipped it open. "Kirk here."

" _Captain, Sulu here. Just letting you know there's nothing to report._ "

"Thanks," said Kirk, who had expected nothing else. "Spock and I are heading over to relieve you now. Kirk out." He got to his feet, and Spock and McCoy followed him. He smiled apologetically at the older Spock. "See you in the morning."

"Good night, Jim. And Leonard, it was most…fascinating to meet you."

McCoy mumbled a polite farewell, then turned to Kirk and mouthed, _Leonard?_

To his counterpart, the older Spock offered only a curt nod, though he seemed to be fighting to hold back his amusement. The younger Spock offered a stiff farewell and hurriedly followed Kirk to the door.

Once they were outside, Spock gave Kirk a curious glance. Reading the implicit question, Kirk explained, "We're still working on Standard time, so it's only lunchtime to us. And since the length of the day here is shorter, I figured we'd be okay doing the night shift. That all right with you?"

"Of course, Captain; the working hours are not my concern, since I require less sleep than a human. I merely feel I should remind you that we have sufficient security personnel for the task."

Kirk shrugged. "I'm taking a personal interest in this one. Thought you'd want to as well."

"I agree that the situation is most puzzling."

"Then you'll do it?"

Spock looked affronted. "I have my orders," he said. "I was merely curious about the logic behind them."

"And does my logic satisfy you?"

Spock looked as though he were considering the most tactful response. Fighting back laughter, Kirk gave him an indignant nudge in the ribs and earned himself a raised eyebrow.

At the sound of a snort from McCoy, both their heads snapped around; Kirk realized guiltily that he'd been completely oblivious to McCoy's presence.

McCoy flipped open his communicator and requested immediate beam-up. Then he fixed a stern glare on Kirk and said, "You, behave." Before Kirk could ask him what he meant, he was gone.

*

Guarding a food store overnight was every bit as exciting as it sounded, which is to say not at all. Kirk had been surprised to find the place unlocked, until Spock explained that the lack of crime on Vulcan meant they had no need for locks. Somehow, this struck Kirk as incredibly sad; that a race so peaceful they couldn't even grasp the concept of theft could have such violence visited upon them was unconscionable. The thought that anyone would seek to injure these people even further was entirely beyond comprehension.

They set themselves up in an unoccupied shelter that afforded them a good view of the entrance to the food store, and sat in silence for a while. Kirk thought over everything he'd learned that day, how a cargo mission had landed them in two independent crises, and wondered not for the first time whether he could really do this.

In the silence and the encroaching darkness of the New Vulcan evening – which proceeded rapidly in their equatorial location – it was hard to believe that any part of his life was real. He often wondered whether he would wake up one day to find he was back on the farm in Iowa, with the Starfleet Academy and Nero and the _Enterprise_ all just a far-fetched and convoluted dream. But there was Spock beside him; less than a year ago, that would have been an unlikely source of comfort. Now, though, the sound of the Vulcan's even breathing was enough to calm him; that was as troubling as it was reassuring.

In an attempt to distract himself from his own thoughts, Kirk said, "Care to tell me what your problem is with Spock Senior?"

In the half-light, Kirk saw Spock lift one eyebrow. "I do not know to what you are referring."

"Uh huh. So you didn't just spend all afternoon glaring daggers at yourself."

"Vulcans do not 'glare daggers.'"

"Yeah you do," Kirk laughed. "Better than anyone else I know." 

"You are mistaken."

"So you're not going to answer the question?"

Spock hesitated. Then, in a perfectly even tone, said, "He behaves inappropriately towards you."

Kirk was momentarily stymied by that; sure, the other Spock acted friendly towards him, but where he came from they were apparently old friends, close enough that Spock had even kept a picture of him when all his other belongings were lost.

Come to think of it, maybe that was a little weird. It didn't make him feel uncomfortable, though (and perhaps it should, but he filed that thought away), so why should it bother this Spock?

They sat in silence for a while longer, then Kirk ventured, "Is it the fact that he treats me like he's known me forever that bothers you, or the fact that I like him?"

He left the real question – _Are you jealous_? – unspoken, and could not bring himself to meet Spock's eye while he waited for a response. All of a sudden, his heart was racing and he could feel heat rise in his face. It was the closest he'd ever come to questioning how Spock felt about him, and he felt all at once ridiculous for being such a schoolgirl about it, and unbearably nervous.

"It is illogical that you profess to 'like' someone who violated your mind."

Kirk clenched his teeth and felt the sting of his nails digging into his palm; Spock could be so damn frustrating sometimes. "It was an accident," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"One that should not be made by a properly disciplined –"

Spock cut himself off when Kirk started laughing, cocking his head and raising one eyebrow as he waited for an explanation for the illogical response.

Kirk shook his head. "Give the guy a break. He'd just been flung back in time into another dimension or whatever, watched his planet be destroyed – which he pretty much blames himself for, by the way – then just happened to run into a version of his presumably long-dead… friend, who doesn't know who the hell he is. Dammit, Spock, you lost it and you were still in your own universe."

Spock's expression did not change during this tirade, and he was silent for a long while afterwards, perhaps processing, or perhaps still not comprehending; Kirk had gotten so used to being able to read Spock that the uncertainty made him nervous.

More to fill the silence than anything else, Kirk added in exasperation, "How can you not like him, anyway? He's you." 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he saw his own error; when divided in two, each half of Spock had harbored an intense and irrational dislike for the other. And now the reunified Spock apparently disliked his older self from an alternate timeline. Spock, it seemed, had issues.

"He is illogical," Spock replied after a brief pause.

Kirk supposed that meant 'emotional,' and he couldn't deny that the older Spock was freer with his emotions; he'd supposed that was something that came with age and acceptance of himself. Then it occurred to him, "It's not that you dislike him, is it? It's that you're afraid that's what you're going to turn into."

"On the contrary, Captain, since our experiences differ so greatly I see no reason to suspect I will become anything like him."

"Bullshit," said Kirk with confidence. "You're terrified you're going to turn into a softie who will lie and manipulate in order to allow an alternate version of yourself to fall for an illogical human."

The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was going to say them. Horrified, he felt color rise on his cheeks, but managed to maintain his firm expression.

Spock held his gaze for a long while, but did not correct Kirk's analysis or his faux pas. Instead, somewhat lamely, he stated, "Fear is an emotion."

To anyone else, that may have sounded like a denial, but Kirk knew only too well the force of Spock's emotions. He smiled and went for a conciliatory tone. "It's not the emotion itself that's bothering you, is it? You're just having trouble dealing with the fact that you feel anything at all."

Even as he spoke, he wondered whether he was still referring to Spock's feelings about his counterpart, or about himself. Spock gave no indication of which he intended when he said, "I shall require meditation on the matter," but the intensity in his eyes caused Kirk's insides to squirm.

*

Night blended into morning with a disappointing – if unsurprising – lack of incident. To Kirk's surprise, since he had requested that Security select their daytime replacements, it was Scotty and Uhura that arrived to replace them.

"Aren't you supposed to be sorting out the new communications system?" Kirk asked.

"All done," said Uhura with a slightly smug smile. "Installed, operators trained."

"Aye, and with one or two wee upgrades," Scotty added with a wink.

"Good work," said Kirk. "Afraid you won't find this so exciting, though."

Spock insisted on being present when Kirk returned to have his false memories removed. Kirk put up only a token protest, since the truth was that he was never averse to having Spock with him – an admission he had trouble making even to himself.

If Spock Senior thought it odd that Kirk had brought company, he was polite enough not to show it; if anything, the glances he sent towards his counterpart were amused.

Kirk sat on one end of the sofa and fought the urge to fidget while he waited for Spock Senior to sit beside him. His Spock stood across the room, watching with a critical eye. It seemed to take an age for Spock Senior to sit down, by which time Kirk could feel his hands tremble in anticipation. They were sitting so that they faced one another, so close that their knees touched. Kirk held his breath as Spock leaned in to initiate the meld. He felt the heat of each finger as it was carefully placed in position, and found himself painfully conscious of the warmth of Spock's breath on his face.

He could not deny to himself how much he had desired this proximity, this intimacy; even though this was not his Spock, he found the closeness intoxicating, and the feeling was only intensified by the knowledge that his Spock – the one he really wanted – was watching.

A sense of amusement that was not his own reminded him that his thoughts were no longer private, and he felt momentary embarrassment for the undeniable arousal that was coursing through him.

_Do not be alarmed_ , he heard Spock's voice inside his head. _I am quite well acquainted with your mind_.

Kirk was startled at that; did that mean he had done this often with the other Kirk?

_Many times. Often in the line of duty, but more frequently…not_.

That was weird. He could hear Spock's voice in his head as clearly as though he had spoken aloud, but was not aware of projecting his own thoughts.

_It will take you many years to perfect the ability to communicate in this manner, but I can perceive the general direction of your thoughts, and familiarity can fill in the rest_.

_Familiarity_. The word echoed in Kirk's mind. It was so strange to think that somewhere, in this other timeline, he had already lived out a whole life. He thought of the holo of Admiral Kirk, so much older than he was now; he suddenly felt overwhelming grief, and only belatedly realized that the feeling was not his own. In shock, he unconsciously jumped away, abruptly breaking the meld.

Spock Senior frowned in concern, his hand still held out in the meld position. The younger Spock took a step towards them, shooting an accusatory glare in his counterpart's direction. Kirk ignored them both, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles were white as he once again reeled from the force of Spock's feelings.

"I apologize," said Spock Senior as he backed away slowly.

The younger Spock glared at him. "What did you do?"

"He didn't do anything," said Kirk, still breathing heavily. "It's my thoughts that were wandering." Once he had recovered his breath, he added, "You miss him, huh?"

Spock Senior seemed fixated on a spot on the floor. "In my time, the five-year mission of the _Enterprise_ under Captain James T. Kirk is a subject of legend. Our accomplishments were renowned throughout the galaxy."

"But they're different this time," Kirk pointed out. "You said that yourself. So we're not going to accomplish the same stuff you guys did, regardless."

"No," Spock agreed, "though I have no doubt that your alternative accomplishments will be comparable in significance." He hesitated, and cast a sidelong glance towards his younger self. "Nonetheless, that is not the reason I urged my other self to join you."

"Then what was it?" Kirk pressed.

A faint smile flickered across Spock's eyes; Kirk may not have recognized it were it not the same expression he sometimes saw, and often yearned for, on his own Spock's face.

"Quite simply, those five years were the best of my life."

Kirk grinned. "So it was an emotional reason, then."

Spock inclined his head, and the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly as he replied, "Would you believe that one half of me is, as you say, only human?"

"Yeah." Kirk kept his gaze on his Spock, who looked decidedly indignant. "I've seen that half myself; I only wish you didn't think it was a flaw."

Spock Senior sighed. "It takes…time."

"Captain –" the younger Spock interjected.

"My apologies," said Spock Senior, raising his hand once again into the meld position.

"Wait," said Kirk. Both Spocks sent him questioning glances, one more accusatory than the other. "I think…maybe we shouldn't do this."

"Captain, I must protest –"

"Jim –"

Kirk held up a hand to silence them both. "Look at it this way." He looked at the older Spock. "You say you and your Kirk did amazing things, right? Don't you think someone should remember that?"

"Those events are irrelevant to our timeline," the younger Spock protested.

"Not irrelevant," Kirk corrected him. "I would never have known you could save yourself from the _kra'koi_ unless I somehow knew you'd done something similar before. Who knows how else it might come in handy?" Somehow, he felt unable to admit that he would never have thought up Corbomite without the aid of his false memories, and he felt renewed shame at the deception.

"Jim," said the older Spock. "It was not my intention to implant these memories, and I do not believe it is healthy to retain them."

For the first time, he earned an approving raised eyebrow from the younger Spock.

Kirk shook his head. "No. Someone should remember – other than you, I mean. I don't want to forget…what you've done." He trailed off rather lamely, not wanting to admit that what he really didn't want to forget was how this Spock felt about him, in case his own Spock never felt the same way.

Both Spocks stared at him, one indignant and the other sad. Kirk smiled to himself at the realization that he could tell the difference now. "Come on," he said to the younger Spock. "Let's go."

"But Captain –"

Kirk adopted his Captain voice. "My decision is final."

Spock gave him a reluctant nod and made his way outside, but Kirk lingered for a moment, looking at the older Spock. "Why don't you come with us? I miss having two Spocks on board."

The older Spock looked vaguely curious about that, but did not ask. "Jim," he said, his tone one of resignation, "there is nothing I would like more than to rejoin the _Enterprise_ under your command."

Jim grinned, then checked himself. "There's a 'but' coming, isn't there?"

"Starfleet does not need me. I am needed here."

"I know." Kirk struggled to fight back his disappointment, knowing he was being selfish. "Keep in touch, yeah?"

Spock nodded, and Kirk responded with a weak smile. He was having more trouble leaving than he had anticipated; there was just something so easy and comfortable about being with this Spock, and Kirk couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone, even if his isolation were voluntary.

Quite without thinking, he held out two fingers of his right hand. Spock returned the gesture, running his own fingers along Kirk's slowly. As he turned to leave, Kirk thought it remarkable that, with only his eyes, Spock could look all at once overjoyed and utterly devastated.

*

Though the nights on New Vulcan were short, they were not short enough, and Kirk had been awake for almost an entire Standard day by the time he collapsed into his bunk on the _Enterprise_. Despite his fatigue, his mind was racing – the Vulcans' theft problem and the disturbing development of red matter were in there, for sure, but there was also a troubling amount of his mind that was preoccupied with Spock in each of his incarnations. Some hours passed before he finally slipped into exhausted sleep.

It seemed mere moments had passed before Kirk was abruptly awoken by the Intercom.

" _Cap'n_ ," came Scotty's voice, " _we could do wi' a wee bit o' help here_."

"Is there a problem, Scotty?"

" _Aye, ye could say that_."

Groaning, Kirk dragged himself out of bed and tugged on his shirt. "On my way. Kirk out."

By the time he reached the transporter room, McCoy was already there. Spock was nowhere to be seen, but Kirk had no time to worry about that now. He stepped onto the pad beside McCoy and called, "Energize."

Kirk had no idea what he expected to find when he reached the planet's surface, but he was stunned when he materialized to the sound of distant shouting. He grabbed his phaser from his belt and ran in the direction of the commotion.

When he arrived at the food store, the scene before him was one of total chaos; there were Vulcans shouting – and that was weird enough, since Kirk had never seen nor heard of a Vulcan raising their voice, ever – and Scotty and Uhura were bodily protecting the entrance to the food store.

Whatever had got them going, they were serious; there were a few dozen of them at most, but Kirk would have felt less afraid facing a mob of hundreds of humans. It wasn't just the Vulcan strength, either; there was just something fundamentally terrifying about a mob of angry Vulcans that their usual stoicism only intensified.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Kirk felt more than one fist connect with his jaw, and couldn't be sure whether they were lashing out at him or whether they'd even noticed him, so fired up were they. He felt hands grab at him; one clutched at his shirt, and he felt it tear all the way along one side as he wrenched himself away.

By the time he reached the center of the mob, his shirt was hanging from one shoulder by a thread, and he was battered and bruised and panting for breath,

"Where's Leonard?" Uhura yelled at him.

It took a moment for Kirk to process who 'Leonard' was, then he yelled, "Bones?" Then, louder, "Bones!"

Uhura rolled her eyes, then pushed Kirk aside and stamped her foot. "All right!" she yelled. "That is enough – your behavior is unsatisfactory."

Kirk was about to point out what an utterly lame description that was, when he realized that the crowd had instantly silenced. He looked, wide-eyed, at Uhura, wondering not for the first time whether she had superpowers.

"We have a doctor here," Uhura continued to the now-silent crowd. "Please allow him through."

The crowd parted like the Red Sea of legend, and an utterly bemused McCoy made his way through to where Kirk noticed for the first time, an injured Vulcan lay behind Uhura and Scotty's barrier.

McCoy knelt beside the prone figure, whipped out his tricorder and started muttering about "unknown alien physiology" in the tone that meant he secretly knew exactly what he was doing.

Kirk turned to Uhura and whispered, "What the hell happened?"

Uhura rolled her eyes. "They found out we had grain."

Kirk frowned; that didn't exactly explain anything. "Are things that bad here? I thought they had food synthesizers?"

Uhura laughed in that manner of hers that made Kirk feel as though he were the dumbest person she had ever met. "I didn't say we brought food. We brought grain, the means to _make_ food. Do you really know so little about Vulcans to think they'd be happy with anything less than complete self-sufficiency?"

All Kirk could think to say was, "Oh."

"We've been treating them like human refugees," said Uhura in an undertone. "And they're not human."

"You are also speaking about us as though we cannot hear you," said one of the Vulcans.

Kirk was about to offer an apology, but Uhura adopted her most fearsome expression. "When you behave like logical adults, you will be treated as such."

The Vulcans were immediately cowed, and Kirk could only watch, dumbfounded, as the crowd dispersed like smoke in a strong breeze.

"Huh," said Kirk when they were all gone. "Seems you didn't need me after all."

"We didn't," said Uhura breezily. "We needed him." She gestured to where McCoy was tending to the injured Vulcan.

"He'll be fine," said McCoy without looking up. He began to launch into his usual rant about the variable meanings of 'fine' when it came to Vulcans – namely the green blood and the more-than-twice-human pulse – but Kirk barely caught a word of it, because he'd seen Spock sprinting towards them.

Spock paused when he saw McCoy leaning over a lifeless figure, so Kirk rushed to assure him that everything was fine. Spock looked doubtful, but said nothing. As Uhura explained what had happened, his posture became noticeably more stiff and formal as his discomfort grew.

"This is most troubling," said Spock when she was done. "Especially in light of what I have just learned." All eyes turned towards him, and he explained, "I returned to my father's office to check the computer records, and confirmed that the unthinkable was true; it was indeed members of the Vulcan colony that stole from the supplies."

"Why?" asked Uhura, aghast.

"Evidently, the aim was to direct suspicion towards the Federation, to what end I am unclear."

Kirk frowned. "And how did you get this from computer records?"

"All transactions are logged," Spock explained in a tone that suggested that should have been obvious.

"All legitimate ones, sure, but I've never heard of anyone signing out stuff they meant to steal."

"Sarek was correct when he said that Vulcans have no experience in dealing with crime. It is my understanding that it did not occur to anyone that any Vulcan would take more than was their due, and as such the records were not consulted."

"That's a wee bit arrogant, don't ye think?" said Scotty incredulously.

"It obviously occurred to you, though," said Kirk.

"I have spent enough time among humans to become familiar with dishonesty," Spock explained. The others were indignant at this, but Kirk tuned out their protestations and watched Spock carefully. He was utterly impassive, giving nothing away, but Kirk knew, somehow, that there was more to this than he was letting on.

"So what now?" Kirk asked, more to quiet the others than anything else.

"The Elders are meeting with my father at this moment. I believe our contribution is completed."

"Now wait just a minute," McCoy got to his feet, his hands on his hips. "I want a word with these Elders."

Spock looked as though he were about to protest, but Kirk chipped in, "I'm with Bones."

Spock relented with an obviously reluctant nod and turned to lead the way back to the Embassy. Kirk and McCoy followed him, leaving Scotty and Uhura to head back to the _Enterprise_.

They arrived to find the Vulcan Elders in hushed but fervent conversation, which ceased immediately as they walked in the door.

"Good morning," Kirk said brightly, earning himself looks of consternation from all around the room.

Sarek glared at Spock as he said, "Captain Kirk, I thank you for your assistance, but you are no longer required."

Kirk was about to say that he respectfully disagreed, but McCoy beat him to it with a frantic, "Like hell."

Into the shocked silence that followed, McCoy continued, "I just barely – barely – saved the life of one of your people who was nearly trampled to death by an angry mob."

"That is quite impossible," an elderly female Vulcan that Kirk remembered as one of the _Enterprise_ 's evacuees stated blandly.

"Impossible, is it?" McCoy fumed. "Then try this out. What I just witnessed was a textbook case of mass trauma. I know all about your logic and your emotional suppression and whatever, but however 'logical' and 'controlled' you think you are, you're going to have to deal with this or you'll end up with a whole lot worse than some stolen food. And furthermore –"

"Doctor," Spock interrupted. "I believe you have made your point."

McCoy looked as though he were set on continuing, but then he took in the faces that were turned to him with identical stony expressions and settled for, "Yeah, I think I have."

Kirk took a deep breath and gave Sarek a grim smile. "Well, I hope we've been of assistance. Naturally, if there's anything else we can do…" he trailed off, noted the glares from all corners of the room, and concluded, "I guess we'll be on our way. Take care."

No one moved to say anything, so Kirk shrugged and led the others outside, where they beamed back aboard the _Enterprise_. McCoy made his way straight to Sickbay, muttering to himself under his breath, and Spock followed Kirk to the turbolift.

Once they were alone, Kirk said, "What made you suspect it was Vulcans?"

Spock waited a moment before replying, "When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be the truth."

Kirk was sure there was more to it than that, but felt unable to ask, so he just said, "Okay."

Perhaps he appreciated not being pushed, Kirk could not tell, but of his own volition Spock continued, "I have been entirely Vulcan, if only for a short time, and I learned much in that time that I did not know before. For instance, that the weakness I have long perceived in myself and attributed to my human ancestry is, in fact, by no means unique to myself."

It took a moment for Kirk to process this, then he clarified, "You mean that you hadn't expected to still feel emotion?"

"Vulcans do feel," Spock confirmed. "Strongly, in fact. It is only through discipline and control that those emotions are regulated."

Kirk nodded. "I could have told you that, you know."

Spock raised one eyebrow. "I no longer doubt that."

Kirk had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at that. "So that meant you weren't so sure that Vulcans were incapable of being illogical?"

"Precisely." A pause, then, "I believe my father once tried to tell me something to this effect. I did not understand what he meant at the time."

"So are you okay with leaving, with everything that's going on?"

"Of course," Spock assured him rather too hurriedly. Then he paused and looked straight ahead at the turbolift doors as he added, "I have also been entirely human, and some part of me is human yet. I do still consider myself Vulcan, since that is how I was raised, but I know now that my destiny lies elsewhere."

"I'm glad," said Kirk honestly.

Spock gave him a curious look, and almost looked as though he were about to respond, but then he carefully schooled his features into their neutral expression and adopted his professional pose, right before the doors opened onto the bridge.

Kirk stepped out onto the gleaming bridge of his ship. As Spock stepped past him, their hands brushed ever so slightly. Accidental though Kirk knew the touch to be, he shivered involuntarily, and it took all of his effort to maintain his composure.

No one else seemed, to notice, though; Sulu and Chekov barely acknowledged him, so involved were they in bickering about the latest paper on relativistic quantum field theory. Scotty simply grinned at them and announced, "She's ready to go."

Uhura swiveled around from her station and declared, "All departments report ready for launch, Captain."

Kirk grinned and took the command chair, and Spock silently moved to stand beside him. Kirk winked at him as he commanded, "Let's take her out, Mr. Sulu. Steady as she goes."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this part, there is the seeking out of new life and new civilizations, and Kirk might be getting the hang of this captain malarkey.

"Checkmate."

Kirk leaned back in his chair, a broad grin spreading across his face. Over the chessboard, he could see Spock's brow furrow as he calculated how he had been bested this time. Kirk found it a curiously endearing expression, its subtlety belying the intensity that lay beneath the surface.

One eyebrow quirked upwards as Spock's eyes flickered up to him. Realizing that he was staring and grinning stupidly, Kirk leapt to his feet and busied himself at the replicator. Returning with two Vulcan teas, he set them on the table and aimed for a casual tone. "Rematch?"

He expected Spock to decline, citing the late hour or unanalyzed data, so he was surprised when the response was a barely perceptible nod and Spock began to reset the board. Struggling to repress a goofy smile, Kirk took a quick sip of tea, then winced as it burned his tongue. Spock watched him with tightly reigned amusement glinting in his eyes.

"I have not previously known any human to enjoy Vulcan tea," Spock observed a moment later.

Kirk squirmed a little despite himself. "I like the smell," he admitted, finding himself unable to meet Spock's eyes. "It's sort of…cinnamony."

"The dominant aromatic compound is similar in structure to the Terran cinnamon," Spock confirmed.

"It doesn't taste like anything, though."

"Human taste receptors lack the sensitivity of Vulcans'."

Kirk was about to question how anyone could possibly know that, but then realized that Spock had – probably uniquely – experienced this first-hand.

"Nonetheless," Spock added, that glint of amusement returning to his eyes, "even as a human I found the flavor – or lack thereof – preferable to the beverages to which Mr. Scott and Ensign Chekov attempted to introduce me."

Kirk almost choked on his tea as he attempted to picture his crew trying to corrupt his first officer. "You never told me about that."

Spock looked as though he were about to add something else, but then he checked himself and returned his attention to their game. Kirk decided not to push; instead, he exaggerated his irritation when Spock removed one of his bishops from play and retaliated with one of his trademarked illogical moves, barely containing his delight when Spock raised one eyebrow and fixed him with that intense gaze.

It was late at night when Spock departed. Kirk had intended to go straight to bed, since his shift was to begin early in the morning. Yet however hard he tried, he could not make his brain switch off; his mind was racing in directions he dreaded to let it wander.

It had been three and a half weeks since they'd left the Vulcan colony. Three and a half weeks of endless blackness, with nothing to occupy him but the day-to-day monotony of running a starship. It was perhaps inevitable that his chess games with Spock – as well as their gym sessions, shared meals and even their meetings about ship's business – had increased both in frequency and duration; after all, neither of them was suited to inactivity.

Rolling over, he squinted at the chronometer and groaned when he realized only three minutes had passed since he'd last looked. With a defeated sigh, he threw back the covers and pulled on his discarded uniform.

Moving on instinct rather than with any purpose, he strode towards Sickbay. A blonde nurse on duty gave him a curious look as he headed straight towards McCoy's office at the back.

McCoy had always been a night owl, claiming he did his best work after twenty-two hundred hours; Kirk privately suspected he just liked the solitude of the night shifts. Still, he was surprised that the early hours of the morning would find the doctor working rather than sitting back with his favorite brandy.

"Don't tell me the ship's still disease-infected," said Kirk as he flopped into a chair.

"All routine, fortunately." McCoy shook his head, and his mouth twisted into a wry smile as he added, "Judging by the number of requests for STD shots, I'm guessing the crew's as restless as you are."

Kirk shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not restless."

"You see fit to bother me here when you're injured and when you're bored, and I don't see any blood."

"That's not true," Kirk protested. Then he realized he couldn't think of a counterexample. "Anyway, can you blame me? We've been out in deep space for _weeks_. I'm telling you, I'd take the crazy lobster things on Delta Vega right about now."

McCoy fixed him with a pointed glare. "In my line of work, boredom is a good sign, and I don't need your restlessness getting yourself or anyone else in trouble."

Kirk flopped back in his seat with a heavy sigh. "No chance of that. You know I just spent an evening with my first officer playing chess and talking about tea? I'm getting old."

"Yeah, it's all over at twenty-five." McCoy rolled his eyes.

"I mean it! In what universe are _chess_ and _tea_ the highlights of my day? And meanwhile the whole crew's getting laid." Kirk frowned and pointed an accusing finger across the table. "You tell anyone about this and I'll have you marooned on a planet of asexual invertebrates. I have a reputation to maintain."

"I did try to make you take some leave on Starbase 18," McCoy reminded him. "As I recall, you were too taken with your pet Vulcan –"

"Ship," Kirk corrected with a glare. "I didn't want to leave my _ship_."

"Whatever you say."

Kirk frowned. He hated that McCoy and Spock couldn't get along, and even more so because he felt powerless to do anything about it, but he really didn't feel like getting into it. "I'm going to find Scotty," he muttered. "He doesn't subject me to this kind of interrogation to get at his illegal booze stash."

"Before you go –" McCoy fiddled with something below his desk, then suddenly advanced on Kirk wielding a hypospray.

"What the –!" Kirk yelled as he backed away. "Are you crazy?"

"You're due a booster," McCoy reminded him, as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

"What the hell? Haven't you been listening to me? _Chess_ , Bones. And _tea_. Seriously. I haven't gotten laid since..." Kirk paused, wracking his brain. "Shit, since before Nero."

McCoy hesitated, his eyes widening in disbelief. Then he shook his head, muttered, "Dammit Jim, I don't even know who you are anymore," and perfunctorily jabbed him in the neck.

"Ow!" Kirk shot McCoy the most accusatory glare he could muster. "If you wanted to jump me that bad, you only had to ask."

McCoy snorted as he returned to his seat. "Those blue eyes don't work on me. You forget I know where you've been."

Kirk scowled and rubbed at his neck. "You're a menace, you know. Attacking officers with hypos – I could have you brought up on charges for that."

"You want to charge me with practicing medicine, go right ahead. But somewhere else, please, I have work to do."

"Fine." Kirk knew his tone was petulant and didn't miss McCoy's eye roll as he turned to leave the office.

Outside, the blonde nurse looked up from her work and smirked.

"Hey," said Kirk, adopting his most charming smile.

To his horror, she just laughed and shook her head. "No chance."

Kirk assumed his most innocent expression. "I'm not allowed to greet my crew?"

"You forget who I work with. Maybe you'd have a shot if you could remember my name."

Kirk pouted, hoping that mock indignation would cover how much it really bothered him. "You girls have completely the wrong idea about me."

The nurse rolled her eyes and turned back to her work. "Whatever you say. Goodnight, Captain."

Kirk left with a harrumph, pausing at the door to call over his shoulder, "Night, Christine."

*

"Entering standard orbit, Captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu."

Kirk was almost bouncing in his chair as he looked at the planet stretching across the viewscreen. Five weeks of hurtling across the galaxy at Warp 6, and they'd finally crossed the measly twenty-one light years to the Maian system, where their sensors had detected the third planet to be Class M.

Nothing was known about this system; from Earth, the star Maia appeared as an unobtrusive member of the constellation Taurus, through from here the remainder of the bull was scattered on all sides. As far as anyone knew, this part of the galaxy was uninhabited, yet long-range sensors had picked up the distinct signatures of warp drives.

And that was precisely what Kirk had been waiting for ever since he'd taken command of the _Enterprise_ with the standing mission to 'seek out new life and new civilizations.' He was so excited for this mission that it took real effort not to snap at Sulu for taking too long to settle them into orbit.

He was in such good spirits that even Spock's now-familiar look of disapproval as they entered the turbolift together could not perturb him.

"I know," he said, cutting Spock off before he could speak. "I should be watching from the sidelines, risking myself is illogical, but if I insist on doing so you're coming to watch. Am I right?"

"Your flippancy is inappropriate, Captain."

"I'm right, though, right?"

"Essentially."

Kirk grinned and gave Spock a playful nudge. "Wow, maybe I'm telepathic after all."

Spock took a step away from him, looking distinctly unamused. "This is no laughing matter, Captain. This is not a Federation planet, nor a colony. We have no knowledge of what we may find. In these circumstances, putting yourself in unnecessary danger is illogical."

"Okay." Kirk held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I get what you're saying, really. But seriously, Spock, this is seeking out new life and so on – this is what we do. And how can I send other people into danger if I'm not willing to face it myself?"

"Everyone who joins the service does so knowing that they are ultimately expendable. You, however, are not."

To his horror, Kirk realized he was blushing. Covering it up with his most brash smile, he said, "Didn't realize you cared."

"It is simply a matter of logic," said Spock stiffly, though Kirk noticed he looked away.

Kirk took a deep breath and spoke quickly, before he could think better of it. "You know what else is logical? I'm the captain, so I get to choose who goes on away missions. And I won't order you to go if you don't want to, but I'm going and you're who I'd prefer to have at my side."

Spock stood still for a moment, darted a quick sideways glance towards him, and then squared his shoulders as though facing down some unknown foe. "Very well."

Kirk bit back his grin as the turbolift doors opened. He sauntered towards the transporter room feeling on top of the world.

They were met by two security personnel, Edwards and Predota. Kirk got a small thrill at the look of delight on their faces when he greeted them by name.

Once they were kitted out with phasers and communicators, Kirk jumped onto the transporter, bounced impatiently on his heels as he waited for the others to get into position, then ignored the pointed look on Spock's face as he joyfully commanded, "Energize!"

*

They materialized in a clearing that their scans indicated was some way from the nearest settlement, chosen so that they would appear out of sight. All around them stood tall trees of the forest that seemed – according to Spock's preliminary scans – to entirely cover the landmasses of this planet. Overhead, the blue sky was scattered with clouds, and somewhere out of sight, the _Enterprise_ soared over them, Sulu's corrections at the helm keeping the ship in a geosynchronous orbit even though they were far from the planet's equator.

"It always gets me how similar all these planets look to Earth," Kirk mused aloud.

Spock looked up from his tricorder and cast a considering look over their surroundings. "It is logical," he concluded. "We classify planets as life-supporting by the presence of oxygen in the atmosphere. An oxygen atmosphere requires a process akin to photosynthesis, which in turn requires chlorophyll, which is usually – though not always – green."

"Even the sun looks the same."

"Again, logical. The spectrum of a star is determined primarily by its mass. Lower-mass stars have the longer lives that are required for the evolution of life, so it is expected that most planet-hosting stars would be of a similar spectral type to Sol."

"So you don't think it's amazing?"

"I said it was logical. That does not make it any less fascinating."

Kirk looked away to hide a fond smile. "You're such a nerd." Spock responded with a single raised eyebrow but offered no denial.

"Sirs," said Edwards, somewhat awkwardly. "The area is secure."

Kirk realized guiltily that he'd managed to forget the others were there, so fixated was he on Spock. He cleared his throat and looked around. "Great. So, which way, Mr. Spock?"

Spock simply looked at him for a moment, then gestured towards the trees. Kirk fell into step beside him, keeping his hand loosely over the phaser at his belt, and the security guards followed.

A path led directly into the forest, and as they stepped beneath the boughs of the trees, the effect was as though a light had been switched off. Kirk paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Ahead, Spock hesitated, looking back at him, then examined his tricorder.

As his eyes adjusted, Kirk became aware of densely packed trees on either side, with only a narrow, twisting path stretching out in front of them. The heavy scent of decay hung over the place.

Moving to Spock's side, Kirk asked in a whisper, "You're sure this place is inhabited?"

"Affirmative. Sensor readings place the primary settlement point-four-two kilometers from here."

Kirk looked around, frowning. "Are you sure there's not something wrong with your scanners?"

Spock visibly bristled. "There is no fault with the scanners nor with my interpretation of the results. The settlement is this way."

Kirk turned around to exchange shrugs with Edwards and Predota, then followed Spock along the narrow path.

It seemed the further they walked, the narrower the path became, and the more the trees closed in on either side. Soon there was no longer room for two to walk abreast; Kirk edged ahead, but was restrained by a hand on his shoulder.

"I can walk in front," Kirk insisted. "I'm not completely helpless, you know."

"I would not suggest otherwise. However," Spock eyed the tricorder pointedly, "do you know the way?"

Reluctantly, Kirk relented, but as he allowed Spock to pass, he surreptitiously drew his phaser.

They walked no more than a few minutes further before the path widened again, and gaps began to appear in the dense canopy overhead, creating a dappled pattern of light upon the ground. Kirk rushed ahead, but Spock held out a hand to still him.

"Here," Spock whispered.

Kirk held back, but looked around frantically. He could see nothing in any direction but the endless dark of the forest, and could discern no sound but their own breathing. Yet he knew better than to question Spock, so he remained silent, and the others followed his lead.

Minutes passed without a sound, and the tension of anticipation began to fade to disappointment. Kirk had been holding his phaser out in readiness, but gradually he let his arm fall by his side and turned a questioning glance upon his first officer.

Spock, however, remained perfectly still, his gaze fixed upon a point in the distance, his own phaser held ready.

Still, they waited. Kirk held his breath, listening. The distant rustle of the leaves overhead indicated a light breeze, but the air around them was heavy and stagnant, and as much as he strained to listen, Kirk could not perceive a sound to indicate they were not alone.

Suddenly, Spock whirled around and pushed him hard against a tree. Kirk had barely registered surprise at the movement or pain as his shoulder slammed into the tree behind him before something whistled through the air, right where he had been standing.

Kirk simply stared dumbly into the distance. Momentarily, he realized he was clutching at Spock's shirt, and that the Vulcan had him pinned against the tree. Kirk slowly released his grip and Spock stepped away, unconsciously straightening his uniform as he remained focused on the tricorder.

Edwards and Predota immediately sprang into action, taking cover and aiming their phasers into the distance, in the direction from which the projectile had originated. Still, they were shooting blindly, and three more objects flew past them before a distant thud indicated that their shots had landed on target.

"There are more," said Spock under his breath. "Heading this way."

Edwards nodded grimly and readied his phaser. Kirk looked over his shoulder, in the direction the objects had flown, and plucked one from a nearby tree. It was a simple wooden arrow, tipped with stone and fletched with a flexible, rubbery material. He handed it wordlessly to Spock, crouched on the ground behind a tree, who turned it over in his hands and examined it. He glanced up at Kirk, and a single raised eyebrow conveyed that he had reached the same conclusion Kirk had; they appeared to be dealing with a primitive race, not the warp-capable society their scans had indicated.

There was no time to wonder about this, though, as a sudden shout from ahead drew their attention. Kirk aimed his phaser blindly into the darkness and pulled Spock to stand beside him. The security guards took their positions in front, ready to protect their commanding officers, a fact which made Kirk decidedly uncomfortable. He pushed in front of them, ignoring Spock's hissed protest and shaking off the hand that grabbed at his sleeve.

Suddenly, there was movement ahead. Kirk held out an arm to prevent Edwards and Predota from rushing in front of him, and watched, transfixed, as a dark shape emerged from the dense forest. Edwards pushed Kirk aside and, before Kirk could order him to stop, aimed his phaser at the figure. In his haste, he missed his target, and the retaliatory strike was swift; by the time Kirk had processed what had happened, Edwards was sinking to his knees, a wooden shaft protruding from his chest. Predota immediately ran to assist his fallen comrade, but Kirk forced his attention to their approaching attacker. Despite the anger and panic that coursed through him, his training kicked in, and he slowly raised his hands.

As the figure emerged from the darkness onto the path, Kirk's first thought was that he was looking at a centaur of old Earth legend; the shape was that of a horse with the torso of a man. As his eyes took in the alien, though, he realized that it was hairless, covered instead in fine scales, thinning to smooth, dark green skin over the head. Its ears sat atop its bald head and were pointed like those of a cat, and though its face had the same basic layout as a human, it had a distinctly feline nose and long whiskers. Its eyes were large and black, and were fixed on Kirk.

Most notably of all, though, its human-like arms were holding a wooden bow at full draw, the arrow aimed directly at Kirk.

How he stood his ground, Kirk could not have said, but he remained rooted to the spot, meeting the alien's eyes and then slowly, carefully, and without breaking eye contact, he leant down to place his phaser upon the ground. The alien watched him in silence, and then lowered his bow.

Kirk remembered to breathe again, and realized only then that his heart was racing and his ears were ringing. His head cleared gradually, and he became aware of Edwards' strangled gasps from the ground beside him. Predota was clutching him to his chest, mumbling incoherent words of comfort. With panicked nausea rising within him, Kirk flipped open his communicator.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_."

There was no response.

"The cover of the trees is too great for the signal to pass through," said Spock.

Kirk cursed under his breath. "We'll have to move him back to –"

"Captain," Predota cut him off and shook his head.

Kirk could only watch in horror as Edwards heaved his last few gasping breaths. Heedless of the hostile alien at his back, Kirk fell to his knees and placed one hand on Edwards' shoulder as the ensign shuddered and fell limp in Predota's arms. Kirk lowered his head and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then leapt to his feet. He whirled around to face the alien, anger boiling in his blood, but Spock's hand on his arm held him back. The alien took a step back, alarmed, and then started speaking quickly. At first, Kirk could not understand a word, but gradually the universal translator adapted to the language and provided a translation that amounted, essentially, to, "Who are you?"

"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_. This is First Officer Spock and Ensign Predota. The one you just murdered was Ensign Edwards."

The alien squared his shoulders. "I am called Klar. The one you just murdered was called Pria."

Kirk was momentarily taken aback, until he remembered the dull thud he had heard in the distance. He glanced at Predota for confirmation, who nodded and said, "Set to 'stun', sir."

"Your friend is not dead," Kirk said to Klar. "Just unconscious. We were fired on without warning."

"We thought you were the Others," said Klar. "No one should be here; it is not safe this close to – " He hesitated as his eyes glanced over Spock and suddenly drew back. "You are from the Commander!" he cried, suddenly fearful. "Oh, forgive me, I beg of you – I did not know!"

Kirk exchanged a bemused glance with Spock, but decided to play along. "Perhaps," he said. "Now will you take us to whoever's in charge here?"

Klar stamped his rear legs, his expression one of outright terror. "Of – of course," he stammered. "This way."

Kirk turned back to Predota. "Get him back to the ship," he indicated Edwards' lifeless body. "We'll take it from here."

"Captain," Predota protested, "You shouldn't go off without security. We can come back for Nick – for Ensign Edwards."

"Take him back to the ship," Kirk repeated. "That's an order."

"Yes sir."

Spock watched this exchange with curiosity evident in the tilt of his head, but made no comment. Kirk was glad of this; he knew his order to be illogical but did not feel up to defending it.

Kirk and Spock followed Klar off the path, into the trees, where the ground was covered in thick undergrowth and twisting vines. Klar stepped over and between them with ease, but for the humanoids the way was treacherous. Kirk tripped more than once, but Spock caught him each time.

Gradually, the way began to clear and the trees thinned out. Kirk saw a light ahead and guessed they were heading towards a clearing. To his surprise, though, while the trees became more spaced out, the canopy overhead remained almost solid. Glancing up, he realized that the light came from the trees themselves; there were artificial lamps hanging from the branches above them and tethered to the trunks.

Kirk nudged Spock and gestured upwards, and Spock nodded to confirm that he'd noticed too; apparently these people were not so primitive as they appeared.

As they walked further, they saw more of the Maian creatures, who stopped whatever they were doing to watch the strangers pass. They all had green coloring to their scales, though the shades varied from a bright emerald to almost black.

At last, they reached a vast wall of moss-covered stone, into which was set a heavy wooden door. Klar knocked on the door with his bow, and to Kirk's astonishment, a plasma screen appeared as if from nowhere. Klar entered some code, and the door swung open.

"This is our city," Klar announced, sounding distinctly nervous. "Wait here, and I shall bring the Khalar to you."

He addressed Spock, so Kirk stood aside and let Spock confirm, "We shall remain at this location."

"Strange place," Kirk murmured once they were alone.

"Indeed."

It was like a city, though there was not a building in sight. Lamps hung on every tree, along with large screens bearing messages in a script he could not read. The incongruity of the technology in the natural surroundings made the place feel more alien than anything else Kirk had experienced.

Their presence did not seem to be appreciated by the locals, who shot them suspicious looks and kept a wide berth. There were hundreds of them here, some with their heads buried in electronic texts, others with crates or shopping baskets perched on their broad backs.

Kirk listened hard to what he could hear of their speech, but they all seemed to silence themselves once they caught sight of the aliens, so he gleaned what little he could about them from distant observation alone. 

"I don't see any women," Kirk observed in a whisper.

Spock looked up from his tricorder only long enough to quirk one eyebrow. "May I suggest you re-examine your priorities, Captain?"

Kirk spluttered indignantly and began to protest, but Spock was once again absorbed in his tricorder readings. Kirk crossed his arms over his chest and turned away. Under his breath, he muttered, "You of all people should know women are the least of my concern right now."

It was too quiet for a human to hear, but a quick glance over his shoulder revealed that Spock was giving him the quizzical eyebrow, though all he said was, "My scans indicate an advanced civilization with solar-powered technology."

Kirk looked up to the canopy overhead; now that he thought about it, there were parts of it that were too regular to be natural, but they blended in with the trees almost seamlessly.

"I would like to study the mechanism," Spock added. "Many planets have attempted to harness solar power, but none have succeeded in meeting all of their energy requirements through those means."

Kirk had to smile at the almost wistful tone in Spock's voice; there was something so endearing about the way his scientific curiosity betrayed his emotions. "I'm sure Bones would like a look at these guys, too."

"Indeed, they are quite dissimilar to any other known species."

"I don't know, they're kind of like centaurs."

"Any other known _real_ species."

Kirk fought back a smile and turned his attention back to the aliens, who were still studiously ignoring them. The family groups he saw usually had three or four adults with one or two young. The children were more obviously curious than the adults, openly staring at the strangers while their parents or guardians or whatever looked the other way. One even went so far as to approach them; Kirk smiled and said, "Hi there," but an adult called the child away and it bolted.

At last, a large adult approached them. He wore a sash of shimmering silver, marking him out as some kind of leader. He was followed by an entourage that included Klar, who looked utterly terrified.

"Rihanha," said the leader, addressing Spock. "What is this creature you bring?"

Kirk stepped forward to respond, but Spock laid a hand on his arm and replied, "A servant." 

Kirk carefully hid his indignation, trusting that Spock had inferred something he had missed. He bowed his head and stepped back into a subservient position. The leader of the aliens nodded his approval at this and returned his attention to Spock.

"You have the trilithium resin?"

Kirk dared a quick glance at Spock, and saw his surprise evident in the slight twitch of his hands behind his back. Trilithium resin was a toxic byproduct of the matter-antimatter reactions that fuelled warp drives, and the only use for it that Kirk could think of was as a highly powerful explosive.

"On board our ship," Spock hedged.

The Maian leader glanced at his aides and raised his head. "Commander Tulok is with you?"

"On the ship, preparing to beam down the resin."

The leader narrowed his eyes and made a small gesture with his head. Suddenly, Kirk and Spock were surrounded; two Maians held their hands behind their backs, and two more divested them of their weapons and communicators. They took particular interest in Spock's tricorder; it was shown to the leader, and after a hushed conversation, he declared, "As I suspected, they are Harannah spies. Deal with them."

As he turned to leave them to whatever fate he had ordered, Kirk called out, "We're not spies. I am Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_. Our mission is peaceful. We –"

He was cut off by the swift kick of a hoof in his stomach. With a sudden movement, Spock twisted free and reached for his captor's shoulder, but a kick knocked him to his knees.

They were dragged, struggling, through the city. Everyone they passed merely looked the other way; Kirk repeatedly shouted his protests, but it was as though he could not be heard.

They came to the edge of a vast pit in the ground and unceremoniously pushed over the edge. It was a long fall, and at the bottom of the bit was only hard, unforgiving ground. Kirk slammed into it hard, rolled across the ground, then felt strong hands haul him up by his shoulders.

"Jim, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Kirk gasped. "You?"

Spock held onto his upper arms a moment longer, scanning him up and down for injuries, before releasing him. "Quite well," he said, turning away with haste.

Kirk watched him, then turned his attention upwards. There was no sign of their captors, and try though he might – much to Spock's obvious irritation – no amount of shouting attracted their attention.

At last, he collapsed, exhausted, against the side of the pit. Spock, who had been examining the walls, turned to face him with his hands clasped at the small of his back.

"The walls appear to be constructed of an artificial material with a perfectly smooth surface," he reported.

"So no climbing out. Figures it wouldn't be that simple." Kirk leaned his head back against the wall behind him and winced; the longer he sat still, the more he was beginning to notice the aches all over his body from the fall.

"You are hurt," said Spock, taking a step towards him before he caught himself.

"No. Just a bit bruised, that's all." Kirk smiled weakly, but he could read Spock's concern in the rigidity of his stance. "Really, I'm fine. Any idea what we're dealing with here?"

Spock regarded him a moment longer, a crease forming between his brows. There was a long silence before he replied, "Their leader called me Rihanha."

"What does that mean?"

"They believe me to be a Romulan."

"They know the Romulans?" Kirk shifted uncomfortably on the ground and cringed as pain shot up his leg. Spock was kneeling by his side in an instant and went to reach out to him, but then he stopped himself and sat by Kirk's side, looking up at the open ceiling.

"You will recall that I advised against your inclusion in this mission."

Kirk glared at him. "Gloating is not helping us get out of here, _Commander_."

Spock looked back at him, raising one eyebrow. "It was not my intention to 'gloat,' Captain."

"Then what's your point?" Kirk hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the intense pain in his legs, and began pacing their small cage. "I know you think I shouldn't be the captain and hell, you're probably right, but it seems to be too late now, doesn't it? It's just a shame you won't be there to take over."

Spock followed his movements from his position on the ground, waiting for Kirk to finish before he climbed elegantly to his feet. "You are mistaken," he said simply.

"Why?" Kirk turned on him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You have some plan to supplant me even now, I suppose?"

"Negative." Spock inclined his head and narrowed his eyes. "I have no desire for command. It is my belief that you are already aware of this."

Kirk exhaled slowly and slumped against the wall. "Yeah. I know."

"Furthermore, your own aptitude for command is not in question."

That brought Kirk up short; he felt a lurch in his stomach and had to cover his sudden discomfort with a laugh. Spock inclined his head and narrowed his eyes. "I was not being humorous, Captain."

Kirk sighed and slid back down the wall to the floor. With his knees drawn up, he rested his elbows upon them and held his head in his hands. "You have no idea."

"Enlighten me."

Kirk did not look up, afraid that if he could see Spock's face, he wouldn't be able to say what he needed to. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, then exhaled and hated himself as he shook his head and murmured, "It's nothing."

He did not look up, but he could feel Spock watching him, as though the Vulcan's gaze were burning through the top of his head. Finally, Spock relented; Kirk could feel the weight of his gaze lift, as much as he told himself that was ludicrous. There was the sound of movement, then Spock sat beside him. Kirk snapped his head up, surprised, and he had to hold back an incredulous laugh at the sight of Spock sitting against the side of their cell, his knees drawn up and his head resting against the wall. As though he could sense the scrutiny, Spock's head turned towards him, and his eyebrow slowly climbed.

They sat like that, watching each other, for uncounted minutes. Kirk's anxiety slowly dissipated, but was replaced by discomfort of another sort; he found he was unduly aware of Spock's proximity, of the warmth his body radiated.

Spock was the first to look away. He fixed his gaze on the opposite wall and took a deep breath before he spoke. "I am competent in many disciplines, Captain, but I regret that this is not one of them."

Kirk almost choked on his breath. "This being…?"

"You are evidently troubled. I regret that the doctor is not here in my stead, but since he is not..."

"You know," Kirk mused aloud, "you think you and Bones are pretty different, right?"

Spock glanced his way again, an elevated eyebrow indicating what he thought of that.

"That's what I thought. But you're really not, you know."

"There is no call for insults, Jim."

"You both tell me when I'm wrong. I need that." He frowned. "More than I thought I would."

"It does not appear to influence you in any way."

"Yeah, well." Kirk turned his head towards Spock and gave him a rueful smile. "I'm only human."

There was a long silence. Kirk found his gaze tracing the shape of Spock's ear, the firm set of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, he looked away, drew his knees up further and rested his chin upon them, making a conscious effort to divert his thoughts.

"I've kind of messed this up, haven't I?" he spoke to the opposite wall, not really expecting a response.

"You had no way of knowing that the inhabitants of this planet had contact with the Romulans, much less that they were trading with them."

"I didn't mean this mission in particular." Kirk took a deep breath and clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms. "Just to warn you, if you tell anyone I said this, ever, I will find ways to kill you slowly and painfully."

Spock's raised eyebrow registered something between surprise and amusement. "Understood."

"I feel like a fraud. When we left Earth, I had these ideas about how I was going to gel the crew into this awesome team and we'd go out and set the Galaxy to rights, and I'd be right there leading the charge, and then I'd get the girl. Um. So to speak." He paused, waiting for Spock to point out how ridiculously arrogant that notion was, but the Vulcan was silent so he continued, "Instead, we've just lurched from one crisis to the next. The rest of the crew seem to be doing fine without me, and spend most of their time getting me out of the messes I get myself into. This isn’t how it was supposed to be."

"Supposed to be?"

"You know, in that other life. Where other you came from. I was a real captain in that universe, you know, not someone who got pushed up the ranks early because he lucked into saving Earth."

Spock made no comment at first. Kirk chanced a sideways glance at him, and saw that there was a slight frown creasing his brow. At length, he said, "I must reiterate my opinion that my counterpart should not have burdened you with those memories."

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "I know. And one day we're going to have a conversation about irrational – _illogical_ , even – resentment of your other selves. But I made my choice."

"Why, when the memories trouble you?"

Kirk shrugged. "I don't know. It's nice to have a glimpse of what I could have been if my life hadn't sucked, I suppose."

"It is my understanding that you became Captain of the _Enterprise_ ten years earlier in this reality."

"Yeah, but only because half the fleet was lost."

Spock turned his head, and Kirk felt himself pinned by the full force of the Vulcan's gaze. "Jim," he said, "I believe you are laboring under a misapprehension."

Kirk felt suddenly constricted in the small space, too aware of how close they were, too conscious that it was not yet close enough for him. To mask his discomfort, he went immediately on the offensive. "Well then, genius, enlighten me."

"You will recall that at the time of the attack on Vulcan, the primary fleet was engaged in the Laurentian system. The secondary fleet answered the distress call, and of those only the _Enterprise_ survived."

"Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?"

"All too well."

"So what's your point?"

"That when faced with the task of appointing a new captain for the _Enterprise_ , would the logical solution not have been to promote an officer from the primary fleet?"

Kirk shifted uncomfortably because yes, that was the logical solution, but it still hurt to know that Spock thought so too.

"You misunderstand," Spock added, perhaps reading Kirk's discomfort. "What I mean is that your promotion was not made in desperation, because there was no alternative. It was deliberate and premeditated."

"You think I deserved it?"

"In my experience, Starfleet is not in the habit of gifting its flagships to cadets who accomplish one-off feats purely by chance."

"Huh." Kirk looked up and grinned to himself, but his pride faded rapidly. "That doesn't change the fact that I haven't done much since."

"I disagree."

Kirk said nothing; he still could not bring himself to admit that his one achievement since taking over the _Enterprise_ , his one bit of unadulterated brilliance, was stolen from an ill-gotten memory of another plane of reality.

"In any event," Spock continued, "most captains find that the daily running of the ship is routine, but many will crack in a crisis situation. Your position is unique, in that you demonstrated your abilities in crisis situations first; the rest will follow with ease, given time."

"You really think so?"

Spock glanced at him, then swiftly looked away again. "If you can cease your fixation on the other reality and recall why you were given command in the first place."

"I'm not –" Kirk began to protest, but cut himself off and slumped back against the wall. Spock was right; without even realizing it, he'd been trying to be like the other him, the one he'd seen in the older Spock's memories, the one who'd earned his command. But as he realized this, he recalled what Pike had said to him years ago upon finding him in a bar in Iowa: _You know that instinct, to leap without looking, that was his nature too, and in my opinion something Starfleet's lost_.

That was why Pike had dragged his ass out of Iowa, and it was also how he'd saved Earth, because he'd known, despite what his superiors told him, that he was right. Lately, though, he'd been so caught up in trying to be his other self, the one the other Spock had so admired, that he'd lost precisely that which made him special.

As his head cleared, Kirk felt his face break into a beaming, cocky grin. "So what you're saying is that I should just be myself?"

"In essence, yes."

"And you know how obnoxious and insufferable I am, right?"

"I have had cause to witness that side of you on numerous occasions."

"You're going to regret this, you know."

"Indubitably. However, it is not entirely without self-interest that I make this suggestion."

"Oh really?" Kirk leered.

"You will recall that even when I ordered you marooned on a desolate outpost, you found your way back onto the _Enterprise_." Spock glared pointedly at him. "May I suggest you apply that same ingenuity to our current predicament?"

With newfound fervor, Kirk leapt to his feet. "Right you are. One awesomely brilliant escape plan, coming right up."

From the ground, Spock gave him an expectant look.

"Um…give me a minute?"

*

A minute became many, and though there was no way of tracking the passage of time, Kirk suspected hours had passed by the time an idea began to unfurl in his mind.

The sides of the pit were perfectly smooth, but small grooves ran vertically upwards at intervals around its circumference. The ground beneath them was a solid, artificial surface with a small gap of just a couple millimeters at the edge where it met the wall. As he examined it more carefully, he realized he could just make out the shape of something slotting into the grooves.

"Looks like the floor's designed to lift up," Kirk mused aloud.

At first, there was no answer. Kirk took a step towards Spock, and realized that although he was sitting upright, his eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and even. He had never seen Spock sleep before, and was struck by how human he looked without the permanent frown creasing his brow and his mouth set in a stern line. Without thinking about what he was doing, Kirk knelt down beside him, strangely captivated by the sight.

"Captain," said Spock in a warning tone, without moving or even opening his eyes. 

Kirk leapt to his feet and tried to look as though he were studying the walls. There was a heavy silence; Kirk was sure he could feel Spock's gaze boring into his back. Finally, he relented. "Sorry, I thought you were asleep."

When Spock did not respond, Kirk slowly turned around. Spock was sitting in exactly the same position, but had opened his eyes and had them fixed intently on Kirk.

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Kirk deflected his embarrassment with a cocksure grin. "I have a plan," he declared, then made a face. "Well, sort of."

Spock rose with feline grace and came to stand beside him. "I, too, inferred that the floor of this enclosure is designed to be raised and lowered, but logic dictates that the mechanism for doing so is controlled from the surface."

Kirk shrugged. "Minor detail. We just need to get at the circuitry."

"And how do you propose we accomplish this?"

Kirk examined the walls again. There were transparent panels set into them, behind which were set the lights that provided the somewhat eerie illumination. "I'm guessing those panels are the best bet for a weak spot. We just need something long and sharp to pry them open with…" He looked around their enclosure, which was utterly devoid of anything other than themselves. "You know, now would be a really good time to mention that Vulcans have retractable blades under their fingernails…"

Spock's eyebrow shot up. "I regret that I cannot oblige, Captain."

"Damn." Kirk looked Spock up and down, then applied the same scrutiny to himself, but could come up with nothing sharp enough to pry open the panel. "If we get out of this, we're going to start carrying concealed weapons."

Suddenly, there was the sound of a violent explosion, and the ground around and beneath them shook. Kirk was thrown across the cell; Spock caught him before he slammed headfirst into the wall, but a second explosion threw them in the opposite direction, and they landed in a heap against one wall.

Kirk lay still for a while, mentally cataloguing each of his limbs. Concluding that he was intact, he slowly straightened out, wincing at the lancing pain in his shoulders and legs. "You okay?" he gasped as he clambered awkwardly to his feet.

Spock gave a perfunctory nod and stood slowly, exhibiting no outward signs of injury. In fact, Kirk realized with a hint of relieved amusement, he had barely a hair out of place. Realizing that Spock was frowning at him, he looked down at himself and, with a rueful smile, tugged off the tattered remnants of his gold shirt. He looked up just in time to see Spock hurriedly look away and fixate on a panel above his head.

Suddenly self-conscious, Kirk glanced down at himself. Aside from a few darkening bruises and red scratches, though, he looked good even by his own standards; after all, long interstellar journeys allowed plenty of time for working out.

Satisfied, Kirk turned his attention upwards. "What do you suppose that was?"

"I believe their interest in trilithium resin may provide an answer."

"Bombs," Kirk sighed. "Presumably whoever they think we're spying for." He reached up to one of the lowest panels, which was just above his head, and winced as a spike of pain shot up his leg.

Spock's head shot up. "You are injured, Captain?"

"Nah, I think your heel just got me in the shin when we –" He paused as realization struck him; the heels of their Starfleet-issue boots contained metal pins. Without explanation, he tugged off one of his boots and examined the heel. He tried working his nails underneath the base to pry it off, but it held firm. Next, he attempted to separate the heel by pulling it apart from the boot like a wishbone; it wobbled a little, but however hard he pulled, it did not give.

Spock silently held out a hand; at first, Kirk pretended not to notice, reluctant to admit defeat, but when his arms began to ache from the strain and all he could produce was a slightly rickety heel, he finally conceded the Vulcan's superior strength and handed it over.

He was relieved to see that it took concerted effort even for Spock. Fortunately, though, the dubious standard of Starfleet-issued clothing extended beyond their shirts; eventually, the heel disconnected to reveal a short but sharp nail.

Kirk took the broken boot and set to work on the panel. After a bit of wrestling, he was able to insinuate the nail into the edge, but he could not get enough leverage to pry it open. It was difficult to balance in one boot and one bare foot, so he tugged off the other and got back to work. Spock picked up the discarded boot, wrenched it apart and attacked the other side of the panel. Between the two of them, they managed to work the lower edge loose, and gradually the panel came free.

Kirk immediately went to work on the inside, pulling wires free and sorting through them on instinct. After some rummaging, took a step back and proudly announced, "I've isolated the control mechanism for the moving floor. I think if we hook up the power line feeding the lights to this circuit here," – he indicated a mess of wires – "we'll be good to go."

"May I enquire as to how you have reached this conclusion?"

Kirk shrugged. "It's just like hotwiring an aircar."

"A skill at which you are no doubt adept," Spock murmured. He stepped closer to examine the circuits, and finally gave a satisfied nod.

Unreasonably thrilled at the vote of confidence, Kirk reached up to cut through what he believed was the power line, but was stopped by a firm hand on his arm. "Captain, we have no knowledge of their electronic systems, what the voltage level might be, or –"

"One way to find out," Kirk interrupted. Before Spock could protest further, he held the wire taut with one hand and hacked through it with the nail. There was a flurry of sparks, and Spock hurriedly pulled him aside.

It lasted only a moment, and Kirk had seen far worse on many occasions, but he did not rush to move. Spock had one arm wrapped around his waist and was holding him firmly, so that his bare back was pressed against Spock's chest. It occurred to Kirk that Spock's shirt never seemed to suffer the misfortunes that his did, and really that was a damned shame, because Spock's skin had the most enticing greenish hue.

Spock let go of him abruptly and stepped away, holding his hands behind his back and looking down at the ground. Kirk simply stood still for a moment, breathing heavily, his waist tingling where Spock's hand had gripped him so fiercely.

By the time he had recovered himself, Spock was busying himself with the exposed wires. Kirk peered over his shoulder; it was difficult to see, since his handiwork had extinguished the lights and there was only a faint glow filtering down from above. Spock worked methodically, though, applying power to each part of the circuit board in turn, and at last there was a lurch beneath them as the floor jerked upwards, then shuddered to a halt.

"Awesome," said Kirk, clapping Spock on the shoulder. "Just do that again, and we'll be out of here."

Spock, however, seemed less enthused. "Captain, I believe there may be a flaw in this plan. One the floor rises to the height of this panel, we will no longer be able to hold this wire in place."

"Oh." Kirk squinted at the circuit board. "Is there some way we can fix it in place?"

Spock examined the circuit again. "Perhaps, if we could tie this wire to this one over here…"

Kirk heaved a dramatic sigh and looked down at his half-naked body. "Is this going to require me to lose my pants?" he joked.

Spock's expression turned contemplative, but then he said, "That will not be necessary. A strip of fabric from a shirt should suffice."

Kirk grinned. "Well, at least I won't be the only one underdressed."

Spock merely raised an eyebrow at him, then bent to retrieve the carcass of his discarded shirt. Fighting to hide his disappointment, Kirk turned back to the open panel, muttering, "Or you could use the already-ruined one, I guess."

Spock ripped off a strip of the shirt, and Kirk held the wires in place while Spock fastened them together. The floor instantly jolted upwards. Kirk staggered and held onto Spock's arm for support. The motion was shuddering, but gradually the walls on either side began to shrink as the surface drew nearer to them. Kirk could almost reach a hand up to the rim of the pit when it finally juddered to a halt. He glared at the floor, tried stamping, then jumping up and down, but it refused to move.

Cursing, he looked up towards the surface. If he stretched up, he could just about lay his hand flat on the ground above them, but there was no way he was going to be able to haul himself up. He crouched on the floor and gestured Spock towards him. Spock looked doubtful at first, but finally relented. Kirk had to fight to hide his discomfort as Spock climbed onto his shoulders, which were still painful from the fall into the cell. He stood up slowly, pain lancing down his back, and gasped with relief when Spock finally found purchase on the surface above and hauled himself up.

"I can see no guards," Spock called down.

"Huh." Kirk rubbed at his shoulders. "Well, guess we caught a break after all. Go back to the ship and get some backup – you can come back for me later."

Spock ignored him and reached a hand down to pull him up. Kirk stubbornly took a step back. "I said go on without me."

"Negative, Captain. Once they learn that one of us has escaped, the other will not be safe."

"Better that one of us is safe, then. I'm ordering you to go."

Spock did not move.

"Commander, are you refusing a direct order?"

Spock seemed to consider that for a moment, before replying, "Affirmative."

The pounding of hooves could be heard in the distance. Exasperated, Kirk reached up and took Spock's hand. "Fine," he barked. "But when we get back, we're having words about your habit of disobeying direct orders."

"Yes, Captain."

Even with Spock's Vulcan strength, hauling him up a vertical surface was hard. Kirk scrabbled up the side, finding nothing to grip, and bit his lip against the excruciating pain in his arm. Finally, he was high enough that he could brace his forearms against the ground. He heaved with all his might, and Spock reached under his arms to pull, and between them they managed to haul him up. Once he had hooked one knee up onto the surface, he fell forwards atop Spock and groaned as his limbs made their displeasure known.

Heaving gasping breaths that burned his lungs, Kirk simply lay there for a moment. Then he felt Spock shift beneath him, and was suddenly intensely aware that he was lying half-naked on top of his first officer; not an entirely unwelcome situation, he had to admit, but probably inappropriate under the circumstances.

He grudgingly hauled himself to his feet and surveyed their surroundings. There was no one in sight, though the evidence of the explosions they had heard earlier was everywhere; trees had been felled, and those that remained bore blackened scars.

"Guess those bombs did us a favor, at least," said Kirk.

"Evidently, though I would not recommend that we remain in the open."

"Right. Any idea which way home is?"

Spock took only seconds to get his bearings, then indicated the direction with a jerk of his head. It did not occur to Kirk to question him; he just ran, ignoring the pain in his bare feet. Spock followed close behind, matching his pace.

Kirk could hear hoof beats from all directions, but could not tell whether they were heading for them, and did not pause to check. Only when he heard the sound of raised voices did he begin to panic; he could not make out the words, so he looked over his shoulder and called to Spock, "Are they following us?"

"They have noticed our escape," Spock confirmed.

Cursing aloud, Kirk tried to increase his pace, but the way was strewn with undergrowth, twisting vines, and the shattered remnants of felled trees. The sound of hooves became louder behind them.

"How far?" Kirk called.

"Unknown."

"Not helpful."

Kirk glanced back again, and promptly tripped on a vine; as he fell face-down to the ground, Spock caught him around the waist. They staggered, but kept moving. The going was painfully slow; it seemed the undergrowth was becoming thicker the further they went. All the while, the sound of pursuit grew louder.

Suddenly, Spock slammed into his back, shoving him aside just as an arrow whistled past them. They stumbled; Kirk grasped Spock's arm and they ran side-by-side, tripping over vines and debris and rapidly losing ground. More arrows shot past them, closer each time. One caught the edge of Spock's shirt; in panic, Kirk pulled him behind a tree. His hand went immediately to Spock's side, but the arrow had missed him, ripping a hole in the fabric mere fractions of an inch from his heart.

Kirk collapsed back against the tree, so overcome with relief that his head swam. He pulled Spock against him; luckily, he seemed to understand, since Kirk did not think he could find the breath to explain. They were outmatched, their bodies less suited to the terrain, and weaponless; they had no chance in flight, especially since they had no means of contacting the ship once they emerged from the cover of the trees.

The hammering of hooves drew closer. Kirk peered around the tree, his hand on Spock's arm indicating that he should stay put. At last, their pursuer came into view; Kirk counted his steps, waiting, then, just as he drew level, he removed his hand from Spock's arm and together they leapt out from behind the tree.

With surprise on their side, they were able to tackle their pursuer to the ground. He recovered quickly, though, and Kirk felt a fist connect with his jaw before he even saw it coming. He lunged, trying to knock the creature off balance, but it was sturdier than the humanoids and held its ground. Kirk regained his footing and lunged again, succeeding in distracting it for long enough that Spock could reach for its shoulder. The nerve pinch had no effect, though; evidently their nerves were arranged differently. The alien reared up onto its hind legs, thrust its forelegs against Kirk's shoulders, hurling him to the ground, and then swung around to strike Spock.

Kirk reached out for the creature's discarded bow. He looked frantically for arrows, but finding none, took one end of the bow and swung it at the alien's legs; it tripped and fell heavily onto its side, crying out as one of its legs bent awkwardly beneath its body.

Gasping for breath, Kirk clambered to his feet, then reached out a hand to haul Spock up. Kirk felt momentary regret for their injured foe, but then took Spock's arm and ran without a backward glance.

They had run only a few meters when an explosion wracked the forest. The ground beneath their feet shuddered, and the air became heavy with dust and debris. Kirk saw the ground rising to meet him as though in slow motion, and then everything went black.

*

He could hear voices in the distance, drifting in and out of focus. He tried to blink, but his eyes would not respond. There was fire within him, intense pain that consumed him from the inside. He tried to heave a gasping breath, but the air burned him.

He could feel a touch against his face, and the pain gradually receded. As he breathed more easily, his eyes drifted open; his vision was a blur of color. Someone grasped his hand. He took a deep breath and blinked; the blur formed into a familiar shape. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

"Spock?"

The sound came out as an unintelligible rasp, but Spock seemed to understand, because he clutched Kirk's hand and said, "Captain."

With a mirthless laugh, Kirk squeezed Spock's hand with force that would have been enough to break that of a human. With Spock, it merely elicited one of his raised eyebrows.

With his free hand, Spock forced a bottle of water to Kirk's lips, and he gulped it down, heedless of the agony in his throat. When the entire contents of the bottle had been emptied – most of it over his face – he closed his eyes, released Spock's hand and lapsed into unconsciousness.

The next sensation he felt was cool relief as a damp cloth was pressed against his forehead. He smiled and reached up to lay a hand over Spock's, recoiling when the skin he felt was not warm to the touch. His eyes shot open, and he instinctively rolled away when he saw the green Maian leaning over him; Spock was there on his other side, and caught him by the shoulders.

"This is Klar," Spock explained. "He is providing shelter."

Kirk allowed himself to be laid on his back, but kept his gaze fixed on Spock. He searched for any hint of coercion, but saw only concern.

"Why?"

Spock brought him some more water before responding, "Apparently we do not act like spies."

"Actually," Klar cut in, "I said you're not very _good_ at being spies."

Kirk laughed, then winced as pain shot through his chest. Klar called out to someone else, and another Maian came into view. This one looked in every way identical to the others Kirk had seen, but his scales glistened in a bright purple. He handed Spock a cup, and Spock pressed it to Kirk's lips. The liquid tasted of elderflower, and created a pleasant buzz in his head that dulled the pain.

"This is Pria," said Klar. "You spoke truthfully; he was uninjured by your weapons." He hesitated, then clasped Pria's hand and continued, "Our people have been at war for many years." A peculiar imitation of a smile twisted across his face. "Needless to say, we do not support it. I am glad that you are not with the Commander."

Kirk nodded as though he knew what that meant, but his mind was already elsewhere, trying to work out their next move. "Spock," he said, "I need you to return to the _Enterprise_."

"I am not leaving without you," Spock insisted. 

"Stop being stubborn," Kirk sighed, too exhausted to deal with this. "You can come back for me when you've figured out how we get ourselves beamed back."

Spock stood stiffly at the side of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back. "I reiterate that I am not leaving."

"Spock." Kirk tried to raise himself onto his elbows, but gave up and collapsed back against the bed. "I am giving you a direct order."

"And I am choosing to disregard it."

"Goddammit. You know I can have you court-martialed for this?"

"If we both return to the _Enterprise_ alive, then that is, of course, your prerogative."

Kirk made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "If I wasn't in so much pain right now, I'd hit you."

"Understood."

"Sirs," Klar interrupted, sounding distinctly nervous. "I shall go. Your friend in red, I will find him."

"Ensign Predota went back to the ship," said Kirk. "Scotty will have sent someone down after us, but I don't know who. Maybe him, but it could be Sulu or Chekov… um… they'll be in gold shirts like the one I'm wearing – er, was wearing." Realizing he was babbling through the fog in his head, he looked to Spock for support. 

To his surprise, Spock's eyes were creased in barely contained amusement, but his voice was steady and professional as he said, "I believe anyone walking on two legs will suffice."

"Oh." Kirk frowned. "Yeah, what he said."

Klar and Pria departed in haste, leaving Kirk and Spock alone. Kirk looked over Spock, taking in the smears of green across his face and the shredded side of his blue shirt, then looked pointedly away.

"Is there anything you require?" Spock asked.

Kirk ignored him, taking in their surroundings. What he had taken to be a house was in fact open above them, though they were hemmed in with stone walls covered in moss. From his position lying on his back, he could see nothing other than the walls, but he didn't want to ask Spock for assistance in sitting up.

"Captain?"

"I'm angry with you," Kirk said plainly.

"I understand."

There was an awkward silence. Kirk considered repeating his order for Spock to return to the _Enterprise_ , but could not summon the energy when he knew he would be ignored. Instead, he said, "Have you learned anything about them?"

"Enough to know we are in danger here."

Kirk snapped his head around. "Then get out of here, dammit!"

This time Spock did not even acknowledge the order. "Klar explained that the development of technology here has been swift, particularly in the last century. Yet it has been controlled in a way that we have not seen on other worlds; the use of exclusively renewable energy, for example. They also use wood only from trees that have been felled by natural means."

"That's great. Still went the way of the rest of us in the end though, right? War, weapons of mass destruction…"

"Interestingly, despite the rapid technological development, no research at all was undertaken into weaponry until very recently. Hence the use of primitive projectile weapons."

"Except when they're killing themselves. So what changed?"

"They encountered the Romulans. I believe they initially thought the use of the advanced weapons the Romulans introduced them to would bring about a swift end to their war, but that has not been the case. The other side responded with similar weapons – whether procured through the same means or developed independently, I do not know."

"Anything we can do?"

"Perhaps. If Klar is to be believed, then the war – particularly the use of these advanced weapons – is decidedly unpopular amongst the people."

"Do you think he can be believed?"

"I believe that would explain the reaction we received when we arrived in the city."

Kirk thought this over in silence. He was sure he could use this information somehow, but his brain was too fogged with pain and whatever drugs they had been giving him to function properly, and he found himself drifting off to sleep.

*

When he awoke next, it was to intense pain as he was lifted from the bed. He tried to cry out, but his throat was raw.

"Captain," he heard Spock's voice say, "Ensign Predota and Lieutenant Sulu are here."

Kirk forced his eyes open and fought back nausea as his blurred vision cleared to reveal Sulu's grinning face leaning over him.

"Hey Captain," Sulu greeted him with obviously false cheer. "There was no need to get dressed up for us."

Kirk choked out a strangled laugh. Spock and Sulu lifted him slowly and draped him over Klar's back. Spock climbed on behind him, holding him firmly around the waist. It was a strange feeling, somewhat like riding a horse, yet entirely unlike, what with the human-like torso in front of him and the fine scales beneath him. He leaned back into Spock, whose touch was like a brand on his skin. To his horror, he heard himself murmur, "You're always warm."

Spock did not laugh – but then, Kirk remembered, he never laughed – but there was definite amusement in his voice as he replied, "Yes, Jim."

Grateful that he had injuries and medication to blame for his state, Kirk slumped backwards and rested his head against Spock's shoulder. Spock's arms tightened around his waist, and he gave the command for Klar to proceed.

Relieved to be handing over control, Kirk could not fight any longer to keep his eyes open.

*

When he awoke, he was on his back again, but the sounds around him were familiar: the regular bleeping of the equipment in Sickbay, and the grouchy snarl of his CMO.

Kirk instinctively reached out for Spock, but felt nothing. He opened his eyes and looked around frantically, but through the white glare of Sickbay he could make out no sign of a blue shirt.

"Easy there," said a decidedly feminine voice. "How are you feeling?"

Kirk blinked a few times until Nurse Chapel drifted into focus. He assumed his most charming smile. "Much better for the view."

She rolled her eyes and looked as though she was about to give a scathing response when McCoy appeared, muttering, "How is he?"

She glared at Kirk as she replied, "Awake and obnoxious as ever."

McCoy started running a scanner over him, muttering to himself and prodding at Kirk's bruised body.

"Hey," Kirk protested. "Don't I get a 'hello' before you start prodding me?"

McCoy scowled at him and produced a hypo. Ignoring Kirk's indignant cries, he jabbed him in the neck and then resumed his prodding.

Kirk suffered this indignity for a while, then batted McCoy's hand away and hauled himself to a seated position. He still ached, but was relieved to find that the pain was bearable and his limbs seemed to be doing as they were told.

"Is Spock all right?"

McCoy crossed his arms, and his scowl deepened until it was positively murderous. "He's fine," he snapped. "I released him three days ago."

"Three _days_? How long have I been out?"

"Four days, thirteen hours and six-point-four minutes," said Spock's voice from the doorway.

Kirk grinned, but before he could greet his first officer, McCoy whirled around to the door and barked, "Out of my Sickbay."

Spock's eyebrow shot up, but his gaze lingered on Kirk, seemed to confirm that all was well, and he departed without a word. Nurse Chapel glared at McCoy, then left them alone.

As soon as they were gone, Kirk turned on McCoy. "What the hell was that about?"

"It's supposed to be his job to stop you from getting yourself into this mess," McCoy snarled.

Kirk rolled his eyes and flopped down on the bed. "I didn't exactly give him much choice, Bones. You didn't see what happened."

McCoy just shook his head, and there anger in his voice as he replied, "What I saw is that green-blooded Elf beam on board with his injured – potentially fatally injured – Captain, and exhibit no interest whatsoever in whether said Captain survived!"

"No interest? Bones, the guy saved my life."

"He was following orders! He may as well have been filing reports on quasars for all the interest he showed."

"Actually," Kirk countered, propping himself up on his elbows, "he was defying orders. I ordered him to beam back without me. Several times. Even threatened him with a court martial."

"Which just makes you twice the fool he is," McCoy retorted, but Kirk didn't miss the surprise that registered on the doctor's face.

"I think," Kirk added, slumping back on the bed, "our Vulcan is more human than he'd like us to think."

"You're imagining things. You'll convert to monogamy before you get that pointy-eared bastard to feel anything human."

Kirk grinned as he felt drug-induced sleep pull him under again. "We'll see," he murmured.

*

It was another three days before McCoy grudgingly permitted his release from Sickbay, and from then it was precisely three minutes before he summoned Spock to his quarters.

"I'm going back down to the planet," he announced without preamble.

"Captain, I must protest –"

"I know," Kirk interrupted. "But I'm going, and this time you're staying here."

"If you insist on returning, then I am going with you."

"No, you're not. You're ordered to stay here. I need someone here who knows the planet."

"Then Ensign Predota or Lieutenant Sulu –"

"You're staying here, and that's final."

"May I ask why you wish to return?"

Spock kept his tone casual and professional, but he radiated tension. Kirk felt momentarily guilty, but pushed that aside. "I can't just ignore the fact that these people are destroying themselves with a pointless war."

"Their war is none of our concern. The Prime Directive –"

"Doesn't apply when their weapons have been supplied by the Romulans."

Spock considered that for a moment. "I do not believe that loophole exists."

"It does now. Anyway, we need to know what the hell the Romulans are playing at – don't you want to know what they're getting out of this deal?"

"What price are you willing to pay for this information?"

"Look, no one's going to get hurt this time. We know what we're up against, we'll go in fully armed. It'll be fine."

"If I cannot dissuade you from this mission, then I must insist that I am included."

"Denied."

For a long while they just stared at each other. Kirk felt the overwhelming urge to explain that he only wanted to keep Spock safe, but stubbornness prevented him from speaking; he was the captain, dammit, and Spock was going to have to learn to follow orders.

Spock had no choice but to relent, but he did so with obvious reluctance. His voice was ice cold as he said, "Understood, Captain," and turned to depart.

Kirk felt a leaden weight settle in his stomach. Should anything happen, he couldn't bear to leave things like this. Just as the doors slid open, he called, "Spock, wait." Spock paused but did not turn around. Kirk took a deep breath. "This is logical, you know it is. They think you're a Romulan – it's not safe for you to be down there."

Spock looked back over his shoulder. "And they know you are working with me."

"Still, that's my decision, and it's final."

"Very well." And with that, Spock departed.

As the doors slid closed, Kirk slumped back in his chair. He felt like a bastard, but that was something he was going to have to deal with later.

Though he knew he was doing the right thing, it felt wrong to beam down to a planet without Spock. He was joined by two security guards, one of them Predota, as well as a xenobiologist and an anthropologist. He hoped it was the latter two he was going to need, but was prepared to use the former if necessary.

This time, the Khalar was waiting for them as they entered the city, though Kirk could not have said how he had been made aware of their arrival.

"It is a foolish man who escapes a prison cell only to return by the front door," the Khalar greeted them. He jerked his head and they were immediately surrounded by guards.

Kirk casually drew his phaser and shot at one of the advancing guards; the others stopped dead in their tracks.

"He's fine," Kirk hurried to reassure them. "He'll wake up in a little while. However," he held up his phaser, "we can set these to kill if you want to make life any more difficult."

The Khalar stood firm, but was obviously frightened. "What do you want, Harannah spy?"

"Harannah… are those the purple guys?" Taking the silence as confirmation, Kirk continued, "Well, we have nothing to do with them. Or the Romulans, for that matter – in fact we're not terribly fond of the Romulans."

"You came here with one of them," the Khalar protested.

"He's not a Romulan. In fact, his species is endangered because the Romulans blew up their planet."

Kirk felt somewhat guilty for that, since it wasn't strictly true; the Romulan Empire of this time had no knowledge of Nero and had nothing to do with the destruction of Vulcan, but the small lie of omission had made his point, if the widened eyes and stamping hooves all around them were any guide.

"If you are not spies, what is it you want from us?"

"I want to know what business you have with Romulus. I know they provided these weapons you're using in your war, and I want to know why."

The Khalar said nothing at first. Kirk aimed his phaser and cocked his head. "I'm waiting."

"They do not provide us with weapons," the Khalar said hurriedly. "They give us only the raw material."

"The trilithium?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

The Khalar looked around, panicked. "I do not understand."

"Why do they give it to you? How do you pay them? Are you giving them something in return?"

"No, they ask for nothing."

"That makes no sense," Kirk snapped, frustrated. "They must be getting something out of this."

"No," the Khalar repeated, his rear legs stamping the ground furiously. "Nothing. Nothing at all. They give the material to us, and we tell them what we have done with it. That is all."

"You tell them…" Kirk frowned and looked to the others for help, but they just looked back at him blankly. He wished suddenly that Spock were there, pointing out whatever obvious detail he was missing. It made no sense; why would the Romulans come all the way out here, give this unknown race raw material for weapons, and ask only that they be kept informed of how their generous gift was used?

"Do they have something to gain if you destroy your planet?" Kirk ventured.

The Khalar just looked confused, and the stamping of his rear hooves increased in pace.

Perhaps that was it; maybe word had reached the Empire that their planet was doomed, and they'd decided to colonize this one; far easier to have the natives destroy themselves than to conquer them by force. Yet some nagging voice in the back of his head – which sounded disturbingly like Spock – insisted that there was more to it, something he was missing.

"Why is this of interest to you?" the Khalar asked.

"Because the Romulans are dangerous. They destroyed an entire planet and nearly wiped out a peaceful race." He winced inwardly at the half truth, but ploughed on, "And if they're developing weapons – " He broke off and stared into the distance as it hit him. "That's it, isn't it? They're using you to develop the weapons. They don't care if you wipe yourselves out in the process, it's all just a massive testing ground."

"I see no harm in sharing the knowledge," said the Khalar. "After all, they provide the material freely."

"Don't you get it? They're using you. They're giving this stuff to you so you'll work out how to make the most effective weapons. Once they're satisfied, they'll either leave you to kill yourselves off or maybe do the job for themselves, if they care enough."

"You are mistaken."

"No," said Kirk with confidence. "I'm not."

"This changes nothing."

"Doesn't it? It doesn't bother you that you're being manipulated into destroying your planet?"

"It will shorten the war by –"

"Yeah, everyone says that. But we've been there. Back where we come from, we almost destroyed our entire planet before we figured it out. It's not worth it."

"We have no choice."

"There's always a choice."

"And if we do not comply?"

Kirk shrugged. "That's up to you. It's your planet to destroy if that's what you want."

"I do not understand."

Kirk gestured the scientists forward. "These are scientists from our world. I would like to leave them with you to exchange ideas for one day. Then we will leave, and what you decide to do after that is up to you."

The Khalar looked at the stunned guard, then back at Kirk. "Very well."

Relieved, Kirk let out a long sigh. He gestured to the security guards, who moved to stand on either side of him. "I'm leaving these two as well, just to ensure their safety." He held up his phaser. "Anything happens to any of my people and you should know that we have worse weapons than these at our disposal."

"I understand," said the Khalar. "If your purpose is as you say, then your people shall be returned unharmed in one day."

Kirk gave him a genial smile. "Then I shall see you in one day. Farewell."

He turned to leave, and was met at the gate of the city by Klar, who walked with him in silence until they reached the clearing. Just as Kirk flipped open his communicator, Klar said, "You are trying to help us?"

"Yeah, well," Kirk shrugged. "You helped us."

Klar looked deep in thought for a moment. Then, hesitantly, he said, "I am very sorry about your friend Edwards. I regret that I cannot undo what has happened."

Kirk sighed and gave him a grim smile. "Thanks." Then, into his communicator, he said, "One to beam up." As the familiar tingling of the transporter beam prickled at his skin, he gave Klar one last look and said, "Take care."

And then the planet was gone, and he was looking at the bland light of the transporter room. Kirk took a couple of deep breaths before looking up. To his surprise, he saw Spock behind the controls, though the Vulcan was studiously avoiding looking at him.

"I didn't realize transporter operation had been added to your duties, Commander."

"Mr. Scott has the bridge," Spock replied. Then, with great apparent effort, he looked up to meet Kirk's gaze. "May I request a minute of your time?"

Kirk sighed, was briefly tempted to decline, but relented and led the way to his quarters. On the way, he explained what had happened on the planet.

"That is of some concern," Spock commented on the matter of the Romulans. "Though I do not understand why they would use another race to develop weaponry when their own technology is superior."

"Who knows?" Kirk shrugged. "I'm hoping your guys will help figure that out."

"You are quite sure they are safe?"

"As sure as I can be. I figure the guy's fighting an obviously unpopular war, any option's going to be worth considering, right?"

"That is quite a gamble, Captain."

"Maybe. But it was your idea for me to be more unconventional, was it not?"

Spock made a noncommittal sound while Kirk admitted them to his quarters. He was about to take a seat, but really did not want to prolong this, so he remained standing and turned on Spock. "All right then, you want to say your piece about how you shouldn't have been left behind?"

Spock looked taken aback and took a moment to recover himself. He stood at parade rest and fixed his gaze on a point somewhere over Kirk's left shoulder. "On the contrary, I wish to apologize."

It was Kirk's turn to be temporarily rendered speechless. He slumped back against the wall and managed only a, "Huh?"

"My conduct has been unbecoming of an officer of my rank," Spock continued. "You quite rightly mentioned the possibility of court martial, and I will accept that if that is your decision. However, I would like the opportunity first to explain, and to assure you that it will not happen again."

Kirk picked at a loose thread on his shirt. "Okay," he said, still somewhat flummoxed. "Explain."

Spock took a deep breath. "It is my duty as First Officer to ensure your safety. However, I have recently become aware that my…concern extends beyond that which my duty requires, and moreover that I have allowed it to cloud my judgment and interfere with the performance of my duties. Now that I am aware of the problem, I shall of course control it."

At first, Kirk was too stunned to respond. This was absolutely not the conversation he'd been prepared for, and he felt utterly out of his depth. 

"I'm not sure I follow," he said carefully.

Spock finally shifted his gaze to meet Kirk's, with such obvious effort that it seemed almost to carry physical weight. "I have no other way to explain," he said, and he looked so desperate that Kirk took immediate pity on him.

"Dammit Spock," he sighed. "You make it really difficult to stay angry with you, you know that?"

Spock gave no response but a quizzical eyebrow. Kirk shook his head, laughing mirthlessly, and began pacing across the small room. Finally, he stopped in front of Spock, looked him square in the eyes, and said, "You're an idiot."

Spock squared his shoulders. "I apologize, Captain."

Kirk shook his head. "I'm an even bigger idiot."

It felt like an eternity that they just stared at each other. Kirk felt as though he were teetering on the edge of a vast precipice; something that had always come so easily and naturally to him was suddenly a gaping chasm, and he had no idea how to cross it.

Aware that he was stalling, he said, "You're worried that you're defying orders because you're worried about me? Why do you think I give the orders in the first place? I was fucking terrified when that arrow flew at you." He laughed bitterly and looked away. "I can't stand for you to be there when you might be in danger, but I can't stand to have you not there, either."

"That is illogical," Spock reasoned. "It is my duty to –"

"To hell with duty, and to hell with logic. This isn't logical."

Kirk belatedly realized that he had taken a step closer to Spock, and that Spock had done the same, and that somehow they had ended up standing so close that Kirk could feel the Vulcan's breath on his face. Still, he held back, though his entire body thrummed with energy.

"You are illogical," Spock breathed against him.

"Yeah." Kirk held his gaze and stood firm, though he could feel himself shaking. "You told me I was better this way, if I recall correctly."

Spock's eyes widened a fraction, but he said nothing. Kirk continued, "Do you remember I reminded you that I'm a giant pain in the ass?"

"Vividly."

"Great. Then you have only yourself to blame for this."

With that, he grasped Spock's upper arms and took his own life in his hands as he leaned in to press his lips against Spock's.

Spock remained perfectly still and utterly unresponsive. Kirk lingered for only the briefest moment, then let go. Sensing danger, he took a step back; Spock reached out to restrain him, paused for a moment with a look of frightening intensity, and then descended upon him. Though Spock's kiss was light and chaste, it was also demanding and certain; Kirk forgot his doubts and responded with fervor. He knew with sudden certainty that Spock had been absolutely right: to hell with that other reality; he was exactly the kind of captain he wanted to be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk thinks he may have finally found something to do on those long interstellar journeys, and a rescue mission turns up someone unexpected.

Kirk lay awake for hours, playing the events of the evening over in his head; how his dread of a confrontation with Spock had melted under an onslaught of desire. Desire that had gone both ways, he was sure of it. Spock's lips had been hot on his, his kisses fervent and passionate. As Kirk played it over, he thought of his hands slipping under Spock's shirt, of their combined moans as they fought to pull each other closer and discard their clothing at the same time…

Only, that part had never happened. The kisses had lacked nothing in passion, and the fire had certainly risen in Kirk; yet after a particularly lingering kiss, Spock had pulled away just a fraction, traced his fingers over Kirk's face in a way that elicited a delightful shudder down his spine, then said, "Goodnight, Jim," his voice a mere breath across Kirk's face.

And then, before Kirk could point out that the night was only getting started, Spock was gone.

Hours later, his pulse was still racing, and he was still as hard as a rock.

He reluctantly took himself in hand, groaning aloud in sheer frustration. Had he done something wrong, to cause Spock to leave? He couldn't think of anything, and Spock had seemed content enough… right up until the moment he left.

But seriously, Kirk thought as he gave himself a fierce tug, it wasn't like it was a first date or anything; they already knew each other, and had been dancing around each other for most of the six months of their mission so far, perhaps even a bit before that.

So what was it? His hand increased its pace, images flashing through his head; some real – Spock bending over the scanner on the bridge, or concentrating on a chess game, or the way he went perfectly still before kissing him – and others only imagined; Spock undressing in his quarters, kneeling to take Kirk into his mouth, or the way his face might look when he came –

Kirk arched his back, biting his lip as he spilled into his hand and over his chest. For a moment he just lay there, gasping for breath, still pulsing in his hand. Then, with a resigned sigh and not a small amount of bitterness, he reached for a tissue and cleaned himself off.

Sleep came to him fitfully, plagued with dreams of hot hands and a warm mouth all over him. When he awoke the next morning, he was tangled in the covers, drenched in sweat, and painfully hard.

He dealt with the latter situation swiftly in the shower, took breakfast alone in his quarters, and then went straight to the bridge. He was an hour early for his shift, but Spock was already there; Kirk's breath caught in his throat when he saw him leaning over the scanner.

Realizing he was staring, he strode across the bridge, greeting everyone with a cheery, "Good morning!" that caused them to look at him with suspicion. 

Spock had gone completely still as soon as Kirk entered the bridge. Kirk was unable to take his eyes from him; even as he listened to the report from the gamma shift's helmsman, he found himself watching the science station out of the corner of his eye.

Once Kirk had signed the various reports that were thrust under his nose and settled back to watch the view of the endlessly turning planet beneath them, Spock straightened up and slowly turned around to face him. Kirk felt his insides twist at the sight. There was undeniable heat in Spock's eyes; in fact, his whole body seemed to radiate it to an extent that must surely be apparent to everyone. Kirk carefully wiped the shy smile from his face and tried for his most professional tone as he called over, "Anything to report, Mr. Spock?"

Spock held his gaze for a moment, then moved to stand beside him. His posture was as stiff as ever, he held his hands clasped at the small of his back, and he looked straight ahead at the viewscreen as he reported, "We are maintaining orbit around Maia III. Landing party has reported on time for each of their scheduled check-ins. Mr. Scott's new transponders are able to function through the canopy that was blocking our communications and transporter equipment, ensuring minimal disruption to operations. We have maintained position, and are on course to extract the away team at nineteen hundred hours."

Kirk was silent while he took this in, though in truth what he was really thinking was whether Spock's professionalism was an act, or whether he was in fact regretting the previous night. Kirk dared a glance upwards as he replied, "Thank you," inwardly cringing when he heard how softly his voice came out.

Spock's eyes flickered to him for just a moment, but there was heat in them, and that was enough to settle Kirk's fears, if not his discomfort.

Spock returned to his station, and Kirk was almost able to convince himself that nothing was amiss, except that he was absurdly conscious of Spock's presence, his every movement, and the memory of the previous night flashed repeatedly through his mind.

Gradually, the rest of Alpha shift filtered onto the bridge. Kirk settled down to read reports, tuning out the sound of Sulu and Chekov's bickering, but still mindful of Spock's presence to his right.

All morning, he found himself shifting uncomfortably. At one point he caught Sulu staring at him, and belatedly realized he'd been asked a question; Sulu repeated himself with his customary good cheer, but Kirk noticed a concerned frown before Sulu turned back to the helm.

By lunchtime, he could stand it no longer. Aware of how utterly unsubtle he was being, he walked over to Spock's station and said in the most casual tone he could manage, "Are you ready to go over the mission report?"

Spock paused a moment, apparently absorbed in one of his mysterious readings, before replying, "Of course, Captain."

"Perhaps over lunch in my quarters?"

Spock nodded and followed him to the turbolift. Kirk turned briefly to call, "Sulu, you have the conn," and saw the helmsman acknowledge the order with a wave of his hand just as the doors closed.

The moment they were alone, it was as though the air became charged. Kirk couldn't stop looking at Spock, but he felt as though he were frozen in place, unable to reach out and touch. Or perhaps, he thought with dawning horror, it would all turn out to have been a cruel dream…

His fears were allayed not a moment later when Spock looked him up and down, his eyes very slowly and obviously tracing over every inch of him in a way that made Kirk's skin tingle. He was somewhat thrown when Spock remarked, "You appear fatigued."

Kirk gave a wry smile and looked away. "Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"I see."

Kirk's head snapped up at the tightness in his voice, but Spock's expression was unreadable. Kirk shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and was never more grateful than when the turbolift doors opened onto a busy corridor.

Once inside his quarters, Kirk hopped up onto the desk and grinned, hoping his expression didn't betray the nervous churning in his gut.

Spock remained close to the door, his hands clasped behind his back, eyeing Kirk warily. After an excruciating silence, he said, "Since the mission is not yet complete, do I surmise correctly that you do not, in fact, wish to work on the mission report?"

Kirk shrugged. "We could write up our part, I guess, but it's probably best to see how the others do first."

For a while, Spock just looked at him. Kirk felt like an idiot, but he held out one arm, hoping against hope that he wasn't about to be shot down. He didn't bother to hide his sigh of relief when Spock slowly moved towards him.

"God, Spock," Kirk murmured as he drew the Vulcan close to him. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate on the bridge when you're right there?"

Spock drew away slightly, just far enough that Kirk could see his eyebrow rise. He belatedly realized whom he was talking to; Spock could probably solve fourth-order differential equations in his head whilst simultaneously facing down a Klingon attack. "Never mind," he mumbled, and reached up to draw Spock down into a kiss.

The kiss was searing and breathtaking. Kirk moaned helplessly into it, clutching at Spock's shirt and wrapping his legs around his waist. Spock's hands were everywhere, tracing his spine with a touch so light it made him shiver, then closing around his waist, then in his hair.

Kirk pulled away, breathless, and leaned his forehead against Spock's. His head was buzzing, and his lips were on fire.

Spock took his hand and began to caress it in a peculiar manner, running two fingers gently and repeatedly over his. Kirk made a contented sound in the back of his throat and allowed his eyes to drift closed.

"This conduct is distinctly unprofessional," Spock remarked a while later, though he did not move away.

"Hmm," Kirk agreed. Then he processed what Spock had said and amended, "Hey, we're not doing anything wrong. What we do on our lunch break is no one's business."

Spock let go of his hand. Kirk steeled himself for an argument about the illogic of their situation, and was utterly thrown when instead, Spock placed a hand under his chin to lift it up, and kissed him hard. This one was deeper, more passionate than the others; he nipped at Spock's lower lip and was rewarded by the most enticing growling sound. Kirk shifted, desperate for more contact, tightened his legs around Spock's waist and drew him closer, then arched his back and rubbed just… "Ah," he gasped.

"Captain," Spock murmured against his lips, "we should return to the bridge."

Kirk protested with a sound that he would later insist was not a whine. He kissed Spock again fiercely, and was deeply relieved when Spock relented and responded with equal fervor. Kirk ran his hands from Spock's shoulders, slowly down his back and over his narrow hips. He paused, gently running his tongue over Spock's lower lip in an attempt to distract him. When Spock did not slap away his hands, he slowly moved them around to cup his ass, simultaneously groaning into the kiss as his tongue darted into Spock's mouth.

Spock's ass felt every bit as good as it looked; it was slight and firm, and the thrill of being able to touch it even through layers of clothing was enough to make Kirk shudder. He felt almost as though he might shatter from the onslaught of sensation; Spock's mouth on his, hands on his back, Spock's ass under his own hands, and the exquisite grind of Spock's hip against his cock.

Yet, as incredible as it felt, it was not enough; Kirk yearned for more, for the sensation of hot skin against his. He moved to tug off his own shirt, but Spock swiftly stilled his hand.

"Captain," said Spock in a low voice.

"Mmm," Kirk groaned. "It's kind of hot when you call me that."

Spock pulled away and raised one eyebrow. Kirk barely noticed, though; he was so distracted by the greenish hue of Spock's bruised lips.

"Can't go back to the bridge looking like that," Kirk remarked with a choked laugh that caught in his throat. "Damn, but you look hot."

"Your own appearance is not displeasing."

Kirk laughed and buried his face in Spock's shoulder. "You have no idea how much you drive me crazy."

There was a moment's hesitation, then Spock's arms closed around him. Kirk gave a contented sigh; Spock's body was so warm that he began to feel drowsy, and gradually the burning urgency began to dissipate, though he remained uncomfortably hard against his thigh.

"You go on," Kirk sighed some time later. "I'll catch up with you."

Spock took a step away, cast a heated glance up and down Kirk's body, and then departed. Kirk groaned and flopped back on the desk, wincing when he hit his head on the opposite edge. Reluctantly, he hauled himself up, took a quick shower to relieve his tension, and steeled himself for an afternoon on the bridge.

Things were going fine until he actually arrived on the bridge and saw Spock bending over his scanner again. He studiously avoided looking over there, and tried to convince himself that fuel consumption reports were more interesting than contemplating how incredible Spock's ass felt in his hands. He failed utterly, of course, and instead spent the afternoon feeling pleasantly giddy. On the plus side, his good humor seemed to rub off on the rest of the bridge crew, and their playful banter was almost – almost – enough to distract him from the science station.

All the same, it was a relief when his shift finally ended. His first stop was the gym, where he spent an hour working off his excess energy. By the time he returned to his quarters, he was utterly exhausted. He picked up a book – antique books, with real paper, were a guilty pleasure of his – but found the words flew through his head without ever stopping to form themselves into a story. The book fell forgotten on his chest and he drifted off to sleep.

He was woken some time later by the feeling of the bed beneath him moving. He didn't need to open his eyes to know who was there; he just smiled faintly, yawned, and said, "How'd you get in?"

"You once utilized your override code to gain access to my quarters in inappropriate circumstances," Spock replied. "I believe in this we are even."

Kirk chuckled, scraped his sleeve across his eyes and blinked them open, wincing at the harsh light. Spock was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, watching him intently. When he met Kirk's eyes looking back, his gaze wandered, then he plucked the book from Kirk's chest and studied it with evident curiosity.

"That's how they used to make books on Earth," Kirk explained.

Spock was silent for a moment as he flicked through the pages. Then a small frown creased his brow and he said, "My mother used to collect these."

Kirk propped his head up on his elbow and smiled fondly. "Yeah, I remember you saying. Lewis Carroll, right? Shame I don't have any of his."

"They are in the ship's library."

Kirk's heart gave a sudden jolt at the thought of Spock looking through the ship's data banks for his mother's favorite books, but he did not comment on it. "It's not the same," he said instead. "Books should have actual pages you can turn."

"She said the same thing. Most illogical, since the content is identical."

"Yeah," Kirk laughed. "But we've already established humans aren't so much with the logic."

Spock returned the book to its shelf. Kirk scooted across the bed and motioned for Spock to join him, but Spock remained where he was. "I actually came here to report on the mission, Captain. The landing party has returned, and believe the mission to have been successful."

"Huh?" Kirk suddenly shot up. "How long was I asleep?"

"Three-point-six hours have elapsed since you were seen leaving the gym."

"Oh. Shit, you should've woken me."

"I would have done so, had there been a need. As it was, I considered myself able to take their reports in my capacity as Science Officer."

"Okay," said Kirk, though he felt intensely guilty for having missed the conclusion of his own risky plan. "And?"

Spock looked at him for a moment. Then, clasping his hands uncomfortably in his lap, said, "Perhaps we should move to a more appropriate location?"

Kirk shrugged. "Would it really bother you to just talk here?"

Spock considered that for a moment. "It would."

"Okay." Kirk heaved a sigh, swung his legs over the bed and reluctantly followed Spock out to his office.

His mood was improved by the fact that Spock had only good news; the scientists of the away team had found the Maians quite receptive to their ideas, and had learned much in return.

"There will not be an immediate cessation to their war," Spock concluded, "but they are hopeful."

"That's great. Maybe when they sort themselves out we'll be signing up a new member to the Federation."

"It is possible," Spock agreed, though his tone was somewhat wary.

"Something wrong?" Kirk prompted. "It all sounds like great news to me…"

"Indeed. Yet some may consider your interpretation of the Prime Directive somewhat…"

"Loose?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Kirk shrugged. "I really don't think the Prime Directive counts when the Romulans have been in there meddling first."

Spock's silence said what he thought of that. Kirk threw up his hands in frustration. "Come on, Spock, they killed one of my men. Okay, it was a misunderstanding, but still… I had to make sure _some_ good came of that."

"I do not disagree with you," Spock said evenly. "I am merely stating the regulations as they stand."

"Yeah, I know." Kirk leaned back in his seat. "Anyway, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. It was my idea, and I'll take full responsibility if I have to."

"I do not believe that will be necessary."

Kirk grinned across the table. "Thanks, Spock. Hey, you want to stay for a bit?" He hesitated. "Um, for," he winked, "chess? Or something?"

Even with everything that had passed between them, it still gave Kirk a thrill when Spock acquiesced. He was somewhat disconcerted, though, when Spock actually began to set up the chessboard.

Apparently noticing Kirk's frown, Spock paused. "Is there a problem?"

Kirk raked a hand through his hair and gave him a wry smile. "One day, I'm going to teach you the meaning of the word 'euphemism.'"

Spock sat up straight, and his eyebrows drew together into a slight frown. "The substitution of a word or phrase of comparatively favorable implication than that which would more precisely designate the intention."

"Yeah. That."

Spock considered this for a moment, then glanced between Kirk and the chessboard. "You do not wish to play?"

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "Let's play. But I'm kind of hungry; you want to get dinner here?"

"That would be agreeable."

Kirk had to concur that 'agreeable' described the evening well. They played a game of chess over dinner, their conversation ranging from the mission at hand to the political and philosophical implications of the Prime Directive, to classic Earth literature, a subject of which Spock demonstrated surprisingly detailed knowledge.

He was having such a good time that he could barely summon even enough pretend irritation when Spock claimed victory in the game.

"I have observed that you are quite easily distracted," said Spock as he toppled Kirk's king.

"I knew you were doing it on purpose." Kirk gave Spock a playful kick under the table, and earned himself a raised eyebrow.

Spock automatically began to reset the board for a rematch. Kirk was about to stop him, but realized that he did actually want to continue playing. He cleared away the plates and requested Vulcan tea from the replicator. As he waited for the beverages to be dispensed, he suddenly recalled grouching to Bones about chess and tea being the highlights of his day. With a start, he wondered if he really was getting prematurely old.

"Jim?"

Kirk realized he'd been staring blankly at the tea; flustered, he returned to the table and put it down. Before taking his seat, he bent down and gave Spock a kiss. He'd intended it to be chaste, but when he felt Spock's lips yield to him, he couldn't help himself. Before he knew what was going on, he was in Spock's lap, grasping at handfuls of his hair and moaning into a deep and passionate kiss.

When he broke away, gasping, he gave an apologetic smile. "I didn't actually mean for that to happen."

"I believe you have just proven my point regarding your capacity for distraction."

Kirk shrugged. "Yeah, though I don't see you pushing me off."

For a moment, Spock looked as though he might be considering doing just that. Kirk chuckled and ran his fingers through Spock's fine hair. His thumb inadvertently brushed the edge of one ear, and Spock gave a noticeable jolt. Intrigued, Kirk ran his thumb along the edge and up to the tip, and then repeated that on the other ear. Spock's eyes closed, his breath hitched and his ear tips flushed green.

Kirk's voice became husky. "So they're pretty sensitive, huh?"

"So it would appear."

Spock's hands went to his waist, he looked up at Kirk through heavy-lidded eyes, and Kirk thought he might just melt right there. The next kiss was softer than the others, less purposeful, but Kirk found he didn't care; he just wanted more, more of Spock, in whatever way he was willing to be had.

Kirk kissed along Spock's jaw, delighting in the way his hands clenched in his shirt. Then he ran his tongue along the rim of one ear, up to the point, and Spock froze. Kirk paused, wondering if he was crossing a line. Spock lifted him by the waist, and for a fleeting moment Kirk wondered whether he was about to be literally thrown off, but then Spock simply settled him in a more comfortable position and turned his head to allow Kirk better access to his ear.

Kirk took the implicit permission with enthusiasm; he tried nibbling on the point of Spock's ear, licking it, sucking on it, each time cataloguing Spock's reaction in the way he gripped at Kirk's waist. Their new position meant that Kirk's erection was pressing directly into Spock's thigh, and he couldn't help but rock his hips gently against that pressure. He could feel no equivalent response in Spock's pants, but figured that perhaps he was just at the wrong angle; he wondered whether Spock would allow him to reach down and check…

"Hey," he whispered against Spock's ear, "you want to move this to the bed?"

Spock froze. Kirk waited, then pulled back so that he could see his face. Spock's face was completely closed off; Kirk groaned, guessing what was coming.

"I believe," said Spock slowly, "that I would like to proceed with the game."

Kirk had to take a moment for the fog to clear from his head before Spock's meaning registered. "You want to play chess?" he clarified.

"Affirmative."

"Okay." Kirk began to climb off Spock's lap, then paused. "You know, we could always come back to chess, after…" He caught a glimpse of Spock's expression and shrugged. "All right, chess it is."

He leaned in for one more, short kiss before finally relenting and hauling himself off Spock's lap. He returned to his own seat, took a sip of lukewarm tea, and wondered if Spock might just be the death of him. He thought of McCoy pronouncing death by sexual frustration, and gave a rueful laugh. Spock gave him a curious look, but fortunately did not ask.

Spock gave Kirk white for this game, and Kirk really did do his best to concentrate, but Spock kept looking at him, or reaching across the table to caress his hand, and Kirk was hard and frustrated and that was more than anyone should have to take. He watched helplessly as more and more of his pieces were removed from the board.

"I shall have you checkmated in five moves," Spock informed him a while later.

Kirk frowned at the board and fought to concentrate on a way out of the trap he'd been caught in. As he considered his next move, Spock casually reached across the table and ran two fingers over his in a way that sent a tingle shooting up his arm. Kirk whipped his hand away as though it burned, and glared over the table.

"I know what you're doing," he accused.

Spock's expression was pure innocence. Kirk laughed and made his move.

It was Spock's turn to frown; apparently that wasn't the move he had been expecting, which was, of course, precisely the point. While he fought for a way to recover, he said, "It is logical to utilize every weapon at one's disposal."

Spock's attempt at recovery played directly into Kirk's hands; he quickly devised a trap of his own and made his move before replying, "Yeah, it's also cowardly to shoot an unarmed man."

"You are mistaken if you believe yourself to be unarmed."

Kirk could only gape at him, feeling the color rush to his cheeks, because coming from Spock, that was far more of a declaration than he'd ever expected. He had no comeback, and in his distraction his strategy suddenly fell to pieces. Spock claimed his second successive victory, but Kirk found he could not stop grinning.

While they cleared away the board, Kirk ventured, "You want to stay?"

Spock gave him a long, lingering look, but replied, "It is late."

Kirk knew he was failing to hide his disappointment as he sighed, "Okay."

Before he left, though, Spock gave him a long, languid kiss that left him reeling, and murmured, "Good night, Jim," in the most seductive tone Kirk had ever heard.

"Good night," he said to the closed door. Then he slumped against the wall, held his head in his hands, and cursed the name of every deity he could think of that of all the races in the Galaxy – some of them downright promiscuous – he'd gone and fallen for a Vulcan.

*

Things continued in the same vein for days on end, until Kirk thought he might go crazy.

It certainly wasn't that Spock was disinterested; when they were together, it was all heat and passion and Kirk was left breathless but still frustrated. Every so often, Spock would allow a new level of intimacy; Kirk had managed to progress from the ears to the hands (it turned out Spock had _really_ sensitive hands, which explained all the hand-holding), and a few times he'd even been allowed to run one hand under Spock's shirt. But at the rate they were going, they'd be old men before they got their pants off.

What really got to him was that he couldn't even talk to McCoy about what was bothering him. Every time he saw him at meals, he'd get variations on, "What's eating you?" and he would consider answering honestly, but then he imagined McCoy's face if he replied, "Not Spock, and I wish he were," and always ended up making something up.

They'd been at warp nearly a week when Kirk found himself at his desk pretending to concentrate on paperwork. As ever, his heart gave an irritating flutter when the buzzer went. He ran a hand through his hair and gave his shirt a futile tug before calling, "Enter."

His breath actually caught in his throat when the door hissed open, and he was already grinning and leaping to his feet when he saw that it was Sulu on the other side. If his smile faltered, he was sure it was only for a moment, then he was cheerfully gesturing Sulu to a seat and offering him a drink.

Sulu sat down, but awkwardly, perched on the edge of his seat as though he would bolt at a moment's notice.

"Is something wrong?"

"Maybe." Sulu darted a nervous look around. "Is this off the record?"

Kirk frowned and sat down. "It can be. What is it?"

Sulu looked at the floor as he replied, "I've had a message from Starfleet Command. They want my opinion on what happened on Maia III." He paused, took a deep breath, and then looked directly at Kirk. "I think they're investigating you for breach of the Prime Directive."

"Oh." Kirk leaned back in his seat. "Why you?"

Sulu shrugged. "Because I was one of the ones who beamed down after you? I'm probably not the only one they've contacted."

"I see."

"So what should I tell them?"

Kirk thought about that for a moment, then made the only decision he could. "The truth. They have my logs, and I haven't tried to hide anything. Just say what you really think."

He had thought that would be the answer Sulu wanted, to allay his fears that he would be betraying his captain by responding to Starfleet Command. He was surprised when instead of sighing in relief, Sulu looked even more troubled.

"The thing is…" Sulu began, only to trail off.

"What is it?"

"Well, I don't exactly know what happened. I know what I saw, and that you were pretty badly hurt. I know what the guy from Security told me, which wasn't much…"

Kirk's heart sank as he realized where this was going. Almost kicking himself for his idiocy, he said, "I didn't debrief you, did I?"

"Not as such."

"Shit." Kirk closed his eyes so tightly that bright spots began to dance behind his lids. "I'm sorry, that's my mistake. I should've taken care of that right away…"

"It's not your fault, sir. We all know you were pretty badly beaten up, and Spock was too worried about you to remember to tell us what was going on…"

Kirk's head jerked up involuntarily at that. He longed to press that point, to find out exactly how Spock had reacted to his being injured, but he could think of no way to make the inquiry sound casual, so he just said, "I'll arrange a meeting of department heads as soon as I can."

"Thanks, sir."

As Sulu rose to leave, Kirk added, "Oh, and thanks for coming to me. You know, instead of just complaining about me to Starfleet."

Sulu grinned. "Hey, you jumped off a drill platform for me. No problem."

Once Sulu was gone, Kirk heaved a sigh and slumped back in his chair. Forgetting to debrief the crew was a massive oversight – especially considering his interpretation of the Prime Directive had been loose at best. Of course Starfleet would investigate, and he really ought to know better than to put his crew in the position where they didn't know enough to make their own minds up about whether he'd done the right thing.

The worst part of all was that he knew exactly why he'd been too distracted to do his job. Yet even as that realization flooded him with guilt, he felt a small thrill at the fact that he now had a completely legitimate reason to call Spock to his quarters, and he hated himself for that.

*

Kirk arranged a meeting for the following day, and felt uncharacteristically nervous.

McCoy arrived first, grouching about how this was interrupting his work, and for some reason that caused Kirk to relax.

"Sorry for asking you to do your job," he teased.

McCoy growled, and his expression darkened further as Spock arrived. Kirk's tension suddenly ramped back up.

"Captain," Spock greeted him. Then, with fractionally less warmth, "Doctor."

McCoy just scowled in response.

Sulu and Chekov arrived a moment later, arguing about an antiquated scientific idea called 'dark energy.'

"It had scientific merit," Chekov was insisting.

"It was the biggest load of crap the twenty-first century ever came up with, and that's saying something!" Sulu countered.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," said Kirk.

They acknowledged him with brief nods and returned to their argument. Spock was eventually absorbed into it, earning himself a grin from Sulu when he pronounced the entire concept of dark energy "illogical."

The rest filtered in over the next few minutes; Scotty and Uhura were having an animated discussion about something they'd read, and were closely followed by Giotto from Security.

Once they were all assembled, Kirk handed the floor over to Spock, who presented a thorough report of the mission (although, to Kirk's mind, the utter brilliance of his escape plan was somewhat understated), concluding with the reports from the science department.

As soon as he was finished, Sulu asked for more details about how Kirk came to be injured. Kirk told the story of how they had been mid-escape when they were caught in the crossfire of the planet's civil war; he began a lengthy digression on the heroics of their fight against a pursuer, but stopped when he caught Spock giving him the eyebrow and concluded, "And, er, that's all I remember."

Spock filled in the rest, about how he had carried Kirk as far as he could, until one of the natives had taken them in.

Uhura had a lot of questions about the natives. Spock embellished at length on Kirk's description of them as 'lizard centaurs.' Spock knew more about them, having spent so much time talking to Klar while Kirk was unconscious, and it was only when he heard Spock talk that Kirk realized just how much time they'd spent down there. The thought of Spock waiting there with him while he was unconscious was strangely pleasant.

Spock was embarking on an analysis of Maian culture when McCoy interrupted him.

"Aren't we forgetting something here?" he snapped. "We lost someone on this mission, and I want to know why."

Kirk took over then, explaining as well as he could, while Giotto listened with rapt attention.

"So you're saying he was shot by the same guy who later helped you out?" McCoy concluded.

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "It was an unfortunate misunderstanding. For what it's worth," Kirk glanced at Giotto, "he did apologize, profusely."

Giotto nodded gravely, but McCoy still glowered.

"What I'm not following," Scotty mused aloud, "is why those Romulans are so keen to have others develop weapons for them." He made a face. "Trilithium's nasty stuff, nightmare to dispose of."

"The power of such a weapon could be incredible," Chekov added, his eyes wide.

"Well, that's the worry," Kirk agreed. "Though your guess is as good as mine as to why they're getting these guys to work on it. That's why I thought we should step in, give them a chance to decide for themselves whether they really want to participate in this."

There were general murmurs of agreement around the table.

"For what it's worth," said Sulu, glancing around the room, "I think you did the right thing."

"Aye," said Scotty, "I'll agree with that, if anyone asks."

"Thanks," Kirk gave them both a genuine smile. "But it was my call, and if there's any heat it's on me."

To his surprise, it was Uhura who said, "No, it's not. I'll stand up to anyone who says you should have done anything different."

"I'm with her," said Giotto, and the others murmured their agreement. Even McCoy reluctantly agreed he'd done the right thing.

"Thanks guys," said Kirk. "You're an awesome crew." Then, before he could get overly sentimental, he hurriedly added, "I think that's it, unless anyone has anything else?"

No one did, so they gradually filed out, and Kirk allowed himself to relax. He was just getting up to leave when he realized he was not alone; Spock had remained behind, and he was wearing the expression of concentration that meant he was trying to work something out.

"Everything okay?" said Kirk.

"Mr. Scott raised an interesting point about the trilithium."

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "That is worrying."

Apparently apropos to nothing, Spock continued, "Do you recall our discussion regarding the evolution of the Hobus star?"

Kirk did, though he struggled to see the connection, and as much as he thought about it, he kept coming up blank. "Yes," said slowly, "but what's the link?"

"Stellar evolution processes are well understood, and our readings indicate that not only does the Hobus star have at least four billion years left on the main sequence, even at the end of its natural life the product of a star of that mass should be a planetary nebula and a white dwarf, not a supernova."

Kirk took a moment to process that, but still couldn't see where this was going. "But we know that it does go supernova."

"I believe Lieutenant Granger in Astrophysics may have provided the answer when we spoke with her three months ago."

Kirk had to think about that until he remembered what Spock was referring to, then he shook his head, laughing. "Uh Spock, I think she was joking when she suggested they blew it up themselves."

"Perhaps, but that does not make the conclusion incorrect."

Only when he took in the tension in Spock's voice did Kirk realize, "You really think the supernova was artificial?"

"It is the only logical conclusion," said Spock.

"Why now, if it wasn't before?"

"Prior to our encounter with the Maians, I knew of no mechanism that could artificially produce a supernova. However, I have conducted some research into the properties of trilithium in an effort to understand why its development is so important to the Romulans."

"You think a trilithium bomb can act like a supernova?" It sounded ridiculously far-fetched to Kirk; a supernova was many orders of magnitude bigger than even the most powerful nuclear weapons.

"Not precisely. You are aware that a star leaves the main sequence stage of its evolution when the hydrogen in its core is exhausted?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kirk gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Fusion stops, the core collapses under its own gravity, then it gets to the point where it can't collapse any more and bounces back to create a great big 'splodey mess."

Spock's eyebrow twitched at his description. "My preliminary research suggests that trilithium can inhibit nuclear reactions by providing an energetically favorable alternative."

"Oh." Kirk exhaled slowly. "So you mean it could get fired into a star, and trigger an early supernova? That's quite an accusation. Why would they blow up a star so close to their own planet?"

"Unknown. Yet we are presented with a fact, that the star does indeed go supernova, a corollary, that the supernova must be artificial, and we now have a method by which this may be accomplished."

"How do you think it fits together?"

"I do not know," Spock admitted. "But I do not believe in coincidences."

"Of course not."

"Then do I have your permission to file a report on these findings?"

"Naturally." Kirk gave him a broad, genuine smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

By way of response, Spock took his hand and caressed it in that particular way of his. Kirk watched the way Spock's first and middle fingers moved over the backs of his, and a memory stirred.

"What does that mean?" Kirk asked, trying to keep his voice casual. "You know, when you –" he gestured to their hands.

Spock paused what he was doing. "There is an equivalent human expression." He demonstrated by bringing his hands up to Kirk's face and pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss.

At first, Kirk was so engrossed in the kiss that he forgot what he'd asked. When he remembered, he wrenched himself away and stared at Spock in disbelief. "That's what that means?" he gasped.

"To the closest available translation in cultural terms."

"Damn." Kirk looked away, his head reeling. He hadn't had any idea what he was doing when he'd done that with the older Spock back on the Vulcan colony. If anything, he'd assumed it was a simple gesture between friends, like a hug or a peck on the cheek; after all, it was only hands. Then he remembered how sensitive Spock's hands were, the way he squirmed when Kirk kissed them, and he felt color rise in his cheeks.

Without even knowing what he was doing, he'd made out with the older Spock. He told himself it shouldn't matter – after all, it was still Spock, even if he was over a century older – but he couldn't help but feel angry and manipulated.

"Jim?"

The sound of Spock's concern wrenched Kirk back to the present. "Sorry, I just…" he shook his head, unable to explain.

"I apologize," said Spock. "I had assumed that you were already aware, or at least that you were not averse to the implication."

"No," Kirk laughed. "Definitely not averse." In an attempt to diffuse the tension that had suddenly sprung up in the room, he grinned wickedly and added. "So if I were to come to you on the bridge and casually do this," he brushed his fingers over Spock's hand, "I'm basically making out with you in front of everyone?"

The corners of Spock’s mouth twitched slightly. "I would prefer that you did not."

Kirk shrugged. "Okay. Just good to know, that's all."

Suddenly, the intercom beside them whistled and Uhura's voice called, " _Captain Kirk to the bridge, Captain Kirk to the bridge_."

Kirk glared at it, wondering if she had somehow heard everything, then reluctantly hurried to the bridge.

"Keptin," said Chekov the moment he arrived, "long-range scanners show a ship. It is Klingon."

"Understood," said Kirk. "Mr. Sulu, give them a wide berth, no point giving them any reason to believe we might be looking for a fight."

"Aye, sir."

Kirk took his seat and instinctively glanced over to the science station, where Spock had taken over the scanners.

They proceeded with only a minor deviation to their course for a while, but then Spock straightened up and turned around to face him.

"Captain," Spock reported, "the Klingon ship appears to be engaging another vessel."

"What sort of vessel?"

"Insufficient data. However, it is considerably smaller than the Klingon ship."

"I understand. Lieutenant Uhura, can you hail them?"

"Sir, attempting to contact them may alert the Klingon ship to our presence."

"I am aware of that," said Kirk. He signaled a yellow alert and ordered, "Please proceed."

"Transmitting on all frequencies," she confirmed.

All eyes turned to her, except for Spock, who remained focused on the scanners trying to identify the unknown vessel, and Sulu, who was watching where they were going.

"Captain," said Uhura at last, "I'm getting something… It's very faint and breaking up, I can't make out the message."

"Can you get enough to recognize the language?"

She concentrated a while longer, shaking her head in frustration, then looked up, wide-eyed. "It sounds like… I think it's Vulcan."

"What? What's a Vulcan ship doing out here?"

Uhura tried playing with the controls, but finally threw up her hands in exasperation. "Nothing's working. I think there must be something wrong with their communications equipment."

Kirk made a snap decision. "Red alert," he commanded. "We're going in."

"Captain," said Spock, moving swiftly to stand beside him, "is this wise?"

"Probably not," Kirk grinned at him. "Uhura, can you hail the Klingon ship?"

"Keptin," Chekov called over his shoulder. "There is a dense nebula point-four parsecs away. If we can use it for cover, perhaps we are able to approach the Klingon ship without being seen."

"Does that look possible to you, Mr. Sulu?"

Sulu glanced over at Chekov's screen and they had a quick, hushed conversation. Then Sulu turned around with a grin. "Aye sir, we should be able to get right up behind them before they spot us."

"Great, go for it," Kirk ordered. "Uhura, radio silence until Chekov gives you the signal. Chekov, I want photon torpedoes armed. We'll get right up close, hail them, and if they're not playing nice we'll deal with them."

Kirk left the crew to do what they did best and went over to Spock's station. "Anything on the other ship?"

"Inconclusive," Spock replied, his eyes still glued to the scanner. "I can detect no identification, although the design is consistent with Vulcan trading ships."

"That will have to be good enough," Kirk sighed. "Anyway, if the Klingons are firing on them… the enemy of our enemy is our friend, right?"

"Illogical, since the Klingons and the Romulans have often been known to engage one another."

Kirk shrugged. "Well, we'll see."

They moved slowly through the nebula, keeping their deflector shields on maximum to minimize damage from friction with the gas. When they were within firing range, Chekov gave the signal to Uhura, who hailed the Klingon ship.

"On screen," Kirk commanded once she confirmed she'd reached them.

The bridge of the Klingon ship appeared in one section of the viewscreen, revealing a sneering commander.

"Well, well," said the Klingon. "If it isn't the Federation."

"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_. State your purpose with the Vulcan ship." He gave them a charming smile. "And bear in mind we have weapons locked on you."

"That is none of your concern. Now, give us a moment to finish off your friends here, and we'll deal with you."

Kirk gave the impression of considering that, then said, "No deal. Mr. Chekov, fire on the Warbird."

They watched as the bridge of the Klingon ship was shaken by the single shot. The retaliation was swift, however; moments later, the _Enterprise_ shook as a direct hit landed on the starboard nacelle. The transmission flickered off as their second shot hit home.

"Captain," Sulu called over his shoulder. "Shields at sixty-two percent."

"Keep it up," said Kirk, silently willing them to hold.

They kept firing, but the Klingons – as was their nature – did not relent. Even as a shot landed on the Klingon ship's engines, sending them up in a ball of flame, the return fire kept coming.

"Uhura," Kirk called, "can you re-establish communication?"

She worked at the controls for a minute, then said, "I have audio only."

"That'll do, put it on."

"This is Captain Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_ ," said Kirk in his most authoritative voice. "Your ship has been disabled. If you cease firing, we will provide safe passage to the nearest planet."

Their response was another shot that shook the entire ship.

"Shields down to twenty-four percent," Sulu reported.

Kirk shrugged. "Hell, I tried. Chekov, finish them off."

"Aye, Keptin."

Chekov sent a barrage of heavy fire, and a ball of flame exploded across the viewscreen. They all watched in respectful silence until it died down to reveal only the blackness of space, and a tiny speck that represented the small Vulcan vessel.

Kirk took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Uhura, have the transporter room ready to beam aboard survivors from the Vulcan ship, and we'll want Medical standing by."

Kirk rose and made his way over to the turbolift, knowing without needing to ask that Spock would follow him.

"I regret that that was necessary," said Spock.

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "Me too. I hope we did the right thing."

McCoy was already in the transporter room when they arrived, looking harried.

"Any injuries?" asked Kirk, surprised; as far as he knew, they'd only been a bit shaken up and suffered no external damage.

"No," McCoy muttered darkly, "but one of my best bottles of Saurian brandy got broken."

Kirk rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance with Spock, who looked distinctly unimpressed. McCoy followed his gaze and snorted. "So I'm told we're taking on more pointy-ears then?"

"I hope so," said Kirk. Both Spock and McCoy turned disbelieving looks on him. "What?" he protested. "I just mean that if they're not Vulcan, we may have just stuck our oars in where we're not wanted…so to speak."

McCoy looked as though he were going to add something else, but then the transporter came to life, and the outlines of five figures appeared before them.

It seemed to take an age for them to clear and form into recognizable shapes, but Kirk immediately recognized the rigid postures and breathed a sigh of relief. He nudged McCoy in the ribs. "There you go," he said. "Looks like we've got more friends for you after all."

As the figures finally finished materializing, Kirk's eyes were immediately drawn to the one at the back, who was different. He instinctively reached for a phaser. Then the figure shook her head, and he registered long red curls and bright green skin.

It couldn't be – it was impossible – but, "Gaila?"

Her face broke into a grin and she squealed, "Jimmy!" In a flash, she bounded across the transporter room and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him full on the mouth.

"What the –" Kirk exclaimed. "We all thought you were dead!"

Gaila made a face at him. "May as well have been." Then she grinned and punched him on the arm. "This is a fancy boat, how'd you land a job on this one?"

"Uh," Kirk raked a hand through his hair and looked around. His eye caught Spock, who was glaring at him murderously, and he immediately removed himself to arm's length from Gaila.

She followed his gaze and evidently caught the look on Spock's face, because she turned back to him with a mock-terrified expression.

"Why don't you introduce us to your friends?" Kirk suggested.

"Oh!" Gaila bounded back over to the Vulcans. "These are my happy rescuers." Kirk had to smile, because they looked tolerant at best.

She began to introduce them, but the one in front took a step towards Spock. "You are Spock, son of Sarek?"

"I am," said Spock. "Are we acquainted?"

"We are not. I am Stonn, and ours is a simple trading vessel. However," and here, Kirk was sure he sensed a smirk, though Stonn's lips did not move, "I am familiar with the legend of Spock, son of Sarek."

Spock's lips thinned to a line, but he made no comment, so Kirk stepped in. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk, and this is the _USS Enterprise_. What were you guys doing out here, being fired on by Klingons?"

"Our ship is damaged," Stonn explained. "We were docked at Vulcan when the planet was attacked. We collided with the debris of one of the Federation ships. We attempted to beam aboard any survivors from the ship that collided with us, but only one survived." His eyes flickered towards Gaila, and Kirk got the distinct impression he wasn't thrilled with that outcome. "In the process, the ship was damaged, and we lost our warp drives, transportation and communication functions."

"So what, you've just been drifting in deep space for a year?"

"Hardly," said Gaila, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at Stonn. "I'm not just some helpless refugee. I just got the warp drive working, and I'm almost there on the comms."

"Our transporter and communications functions remain non-operational," said Stonn.

"Yeah, well," said Gaila, "not much I can do until you get me a Heisenberg compensator for the transporter and a flux capacitor for the comms system."

"We've got plenty o' those," Scotty cut in from behind the transporter controls. Everyone turned to look at him, and he flushed bright red when he caught Gaila's eye. "Uh, that is, if ye dinnae mind, Cap'n?"

"Of course," said Kirk. "While Mr. Scott sorts those out for you, you are of course welcome to remain here as our guests."

Stonn cast a wary glance over to Spock. "Thank you, Captain, but we would prefer to return to our ship."

"Okay," said Kirk with a slight frown towards Spock. "If that's what you want."

He gestured for Scotty to return them to their ship, and they all took their places back on the transporter pad. All, that is, except Gaila, who stayed put and was gaping at Kirk.

"Captain?" she exclaimed. "Since when is Jimmy a captain?"

"Hey," said Kirk, jabbing a finger in her direction. "That's Captain Kirk to you."

"Ooh," she giggled. "Kinky."

Kirk smiled, but stopped when he caught the glare Spock was shooting at him. "You going back?" he asked.

Gaila shook her head, causing her curls to bounce. "Nah, I'll go with your engineer and pick out the bits I need, and then," she winked at Kirk, "you and I have some catching up to do, Mr. Captain."

"Sure," said Kirk. "You okay taking care of her, Scotty?" He took Scotty's choked splutter as a yes and added, "Oh, but swing by Uhura first, I think she'll want to know her old roommate's all right."

"Oh!" Gaila squeaked. "Nyota's here?" Kirk nodded, and she crushed him in an enormous hug. "Oh Jimmy," she said, "this is amazing!"

"Yeah," said Kirk, backing away as discreetly as he could. "It is, isn't it?"

He watched her bound off with Scotty, then turned to Spock. "So what's the deal with you and that Stonn guy? He didn't seem to like you much."

"Unknown," said Spock. "I have neither seen him nor heard his name before today."

"Okay," Kirk shrugged and turned to McCoy. "Well, whatever's going on there, looks like you won't have any new Vulcan friends to play with after all."

"I'm devastated, I assure you."

Kirk turned back to Spock, but he suddenly stalked past them and left the transporter room without a word. Kirk watched him go, utterly confused. "What's up with him?"

McCoy snorted and looked at him in disbelief. "You really don't know?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

But McCoy just walked off, shaking his head, and Kirk was left alone in the transporter room wondering what the hell had just happened.

*

Kirk was in his quarters that evening, compiling his logs, when the buzzer went. He called, "Enter," without looking up, expecting Spock for their nightly session of tease-the-Captain, but instead a flash of green bounded into view and hopped onto his desk.

"Hey," he grinned. "Did you get the stuff you need?"

"Yep," she said. She looked around his quarters and gave a low whistle. "Very swish. Who'd you sleep with to get this, then?"

"No one." He gave her a playful slap on the arm. "We saved the Earth, you know."

"Yeah, I can believe that." She hopped off the desk and began undoing the buttons of her shirt. "Still, it's a pretty fancy ship for a new boy."

Kirk realized he was watching her work through the buttons, mesmerized, and had to shake his head to snap himself out of it. "Uh, Gaila," he said somewhat awkwardly.

"What?" She shrugged the shirt off, revealing a delicate black and green bra.

Kirk reluctantly tore his eyes from her breasts and explained, "Um, I'm kind of seeing someone."

"So?" She stared at him for a moment, as though he were leaving out some vital detail, then raised her eyebrows. "Wait, you mean exclusively?"

"Sort of," Kirk shrugged. Well, it wasn't like they'd discussed it or anything, but he was fairly sure Vulcans were generally monogamous.

"Why?"

"God knows," Kirk laughed, because it really wasn't worth explaining.

"Oh come on, Jimmy," she pouted. "I've been on a ship with _Vulcans_ for a year. Help a girl out?"

"What do you mean? What's wrong with Vulcans?"

Gaila rolled her eyes and did a passable imitation of Stonn. "Vulcans are not cursed with urges of a carnal nature," she quoted, making a face to indicate what she thought of that.

"Oh." Kirk felt himself deflate. "Really?"

She gave him a sly look. "Seriously? A Vulcan, huh? Is that why that pointy-ears was giving me the death glare in the transporter room?"

Kirk briefly considered denying it, but this was Gaila, and it was such a relief to be able to talk frankly to someone. "Yeah, I guess."

"Isn't he the one Nyota had a massive crush on back at the Academy?"

"More than a crush, from what I gather."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "Good for her, I guess. But now he's with you?"

"Kind of. It's complicated."

"Well, go on." When Kirk didn't continue, she rolled her eyes. "Look, if you're turning me down it had better be for a good reason."

"It's just…" Kirk sighed and flopped into a chair. "It's a bit new. We haven't actually got to, you know, the sex part yet."

"Hang on. So you're _not_ having sex with him?"

"Not as such, no."

"But he's the reason you won't sleep with me?"

"Yeah. Sorry." He cast a glance over her body, lingering on her full and partially exposed breasts. "You have no idea how sorry."

"Oh, I know," she said with a wicked grin. "But I still don't get it. Why aren't you having sex with him?"

"I don't know," Kirk admitted. "Are Vulcans really not into that? How do they, you know, make baby Vulcans?"

"I heard there's some sort of cycle, and every so often they have to do it. So obviously I figured fine, I'd cope, because eventually they'd have to, right? Only I was there a year, a whole _year_ , and none of them had to. So I dunno, maybe that's not true."

"Huh."

"Are you listening to me? A year, Jimmy. A _year_."

"Yeah," he laughed. "But don't worry, Scotty looked pretty taken with you."

She made a face. "Can't," she said. "Nyota made me promise back at the Academy that I wouldn't sleep with anyone she likes."

"What? Uhura and Scotty?"

"You didn't know?" Kirk shook his head and Gaila just shrugged. "Well, who knows if they'll ever get around to it… Anyway, you have other guys on this ship, right?"

"Two hundred and eighty-seven of them, and a hundred and forty-one women."

Her face lit up. "Awesome!"

"Don't tell anyone about me and Spock though," Kirk added hurriedly.

Gaila rolled her eyes. "Doesn't sound like there's anything to tell."

The door buzzer sounded again, and Kirk called, "Enter," without thinking.

Spock took one step into the room, froze when he saw Gaila and immediately turned to leave.

"Wait," Kirk called after him. "It's not – I mean she's not –"

"Oh relax," said Gaila, rolling her eyes. She reached over the side of the desk for her shirt and pulled it back on. "Honey," she said to Spock, "you've got nothing to worry about, he wouldn't touch me if I was sprawled out naked."

She threw Kirk a wink and hopped off the desk. She brushed past Spock as she left, causing him to visibly bristle. She paused behind him, casting an appraising look over his body, then gave Kirk the thumbs up and left.

Kirk laughed, but immediately sobered when he caught the dark look on Spock's face. "You okay?" he asked warily.

Spock did not respond, and actually glanced at the door as though he was contemplating leaving. Kirk jumped to his feet, several attempts at an explanation running through his head. In the end, he settled for reaching out to take Spock's hand and giving him a Vulcan kiss.

At first, Spock remained completely still, but then Kirk took a step closer and leaned up to kiss him the human way. For a terrifying moment, Spock froze, but then he began to respond, and Kirk sank against him in relief.

When they broke apart, Spock said, "You told me once that an Orion woman assisted you with reprogramming the Kobayashi Maru."

It was not a question, but Kirk replied, "Yeah, that was Gaila."

"You also implied that you had sexual relations with her."

"Oh." To his horror, Kirk felt himself blush; there was something so strange and hot about hearing Spock use the phrase 'sexual relations.' "Yes," he confirmed. "But that was over a year ago. There's nothing going on now – that's what I just told her."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you not continuing your previous association with her?"

"Um." Kirk took a step closer and idly reached for Spock's hand. "Isn't that obvious?" He frowned, wondering suddenly if he'd horribly misread things. "I mean, we are a thing, right?"

"A 'thing'?"

"You know what I mean," Kirk grumbled. He wasn't sure what word to use; 'lover' didn't seem apt when they'd yet to move beyond first base, and he cringed at the mere thought of the word 'boyfriend.'

Spock looked decidedly uncomfortable and withdrew his hands to behind his back. Kirk felt his heart sink. Surely it wasn't possible that he'd misread the situation; it had seemed pretty definitive by human or Vulcan standards, and he was sure there had been times when Spock had initiated it. Suddenly, though, he was fearful, because it wasn't as though they'd ever sat down and discussed it.

"Spock?" he prompted, almost pleading. "Help me out here?"

"It is difficult when your terminology is so imprecise. However, by the definition I believe you to be using, I agree that we are, as you say, a 'thing.'"

Kirk exhaled and closed his eyes in relief. "Okay," he said. "So what's the problem?"

Spock looked uncomfortable again, and looked over Kirk's shoulder as he explained, "Nyota informed me that certain humans do not subscribe to the notion of monogamy."

Kirk pursed his lips, sure by the emphasis Spock had put on 'certain' that she had in fact singled him out. "Well, I'll forgive her for that, because as far as she knows it's true."

"You are saying that she is in error?"

"I don't know," Kirk admitted. "I've not exactly been into the serious stuff in the past, and I'm not going to say I am now, in case I'm not." He frowned, realizing he was making no sense. "What I mean is, I don't know what this is," he gestured between them. "But I'm not screwing with you."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Kirk sighed. "Because I don't."

"Not entirely," Spock admitted.

They stood there in silence for a while, awkwardly avoiding each other's gaze. Kirk shifted uncomfortably, thought about sitting down, then thought better of it. At length, he took a deep breath and said, "Look, the truth is that sometimes I think this is possibly the worst idea I've ever had. I mean, it's already made me unable to do my job, and I'm not cool with that. I also really don't like feeling like someone else pushed us into it, even if that someone else is you from another timeline."

"Then you wish to cease our association?"

Kirk looked at him. He took in the annoyingly neat hair, the stern and expressionless face, the rigid stance, and wondered if perhaps that would be for the best. But then he saw the way Spock's eyes were narrowed, and the tension in the way he held his hands, and realized that Spock was nervous, that he actually cared how Kirk responded, and his heart broke a little. He recalled the way it felt to kiss him, the way Spock's hands would skate over him, the way he squirmed when Kirk nibbled on his ears, and the way they would flush green when he was aroused.

Kirk brought a hand up to Spock's face and traced the line of one eyebrow with a finger. "No," he breathed. "I don't want to cease anything."

He kissed Spock gently, and felt a thrill race through him when he sensed the response.

"But if we're doing this," said Kirk a while later, "can I ask you something?"

"You may."

"Gaila said something about Vulcans not having carnal urges."

"That is true," said Spock. "Vulcans are not supposed to have…urges…outside of the proper time."

"Oh." Kirk froze. He wondered briefly what 'proper time' meant – did they just do it once on their wedding nights or something? – but it didn't really matter. Did Spock really feel nothing sexual towards him at all? The more he thought about that, the less sense it made; sure, they hadn't done much, but when he licked Spock's ears and hands, he was sure that response was a sexual one. If he could respond that much, then surely…

"Hang on," said Kirk as something occurred to him. "But you're half-human. So doesn't your human half feel… you know, desire?"

Spock was silent for a moment, considering. "May I trust that you will not share anything I tell you?"

"Of course."

"Then having had the experience of being separated into my human and Vulcan halves, I can honestly say that my," he looked directly into Kirk's eyes, "desire was not lessened by being wholly Vulcan."

Kirk felt his breath catch in his throat as he absorbed that. He gave a nervous laugh. "You mean they're full of crap?"

"I have come to believe that many claims of Vulcan self-control are exaggerated, and that any…weakness in myself is not due entirely to my unique genetics."

"That's awesome." Kirk pressed a quick kiss to Spock's lips, then pulled back. "Hey, you said you felt desire back then…" he grinned. "Would it be extraordinarily arrogant of me to assume you're talking about me?"

Spock raised his eyebrow. "That would indeed be extraordinarily arrogant."

"But I'm right, right?"

"I believe you know the answer to that."

"I knew human-you was into me," Kirk shrugged. "No idea I had a shot with the Vulcan." 

"I was…somewhat reluctant to accept it," Spock admitted.

"I'll bet," Kirk laughed. "You know, I kept thinking afterwards that I should have just gone for it with human-you. Never occurred to me you'd get over the emotional repression thing enough to be interested."

Spock took his hand and began idly tracing patterns on the back. "I will confess that I regretted missing that opportunity, but I find I am not displeased with the outcome."

"Yeah, I much prefer having you whole," Kirk admitted. "Although…" he grinned as an image of himself with Spock's human and Vulcan counterparts popped into his head. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to try the splitting thing again, just for fun?"

Spock quelled that idea with a stern look, and then kissed him fiercely. Kirk groaned and brought his hands up to Spock's neck, then to tangle in his hair and caress his ears. Spock gave the most delightful shiver and ran his hands down Kirk's back as he deepened the kiss.

The heat built rapidly; Kirk had been hard ever since Spock had confessed to his Vulcan half having feelings, and it took very little of Spock's touch to ignite him. He thrust against Spock's hip and moaned into the kiss. He broke away to tear off his shirt; in his haste, he got tangled, and it ripped almost clean in two. With a shrug, he tossed the remnants over his shoulder and returned his attention to Spock, but Spock's hands suddenly gripped his shoulders and held him at arm's length.

"It is true that I am…capable of sexual activity," Spock said slowly, avoiding Kirk's eyes. "And even that I desire it. Nonetheless…" Kirk heaved a sigh, and Spock reluctantly looked him in the eye as he said, "It is not something I can enter into lightly."

"And this is still too light?" Kirk protested. "I mean, we did the Talk and everything…"

"I apologize."

"That's okay." Kirk forced a smile even though he felt he might die of frustration.

"Is this going to be a problem?"

"No," said Kirk with a heavy sigh. "No problem."

Spock inclined his head and cast what Kirk was sure was an appraising glance over his exposed chest. With a grin, Kirk added, "You owe me a shirt."

"It is no fault of mine that you persist in destroying your own."

"Hey," Kirk shrugged, "any excuse to strip off for you."

Spock kissed him softly. "Goodnight, Jim."

Kirk felt himself responding to the kiss, being drawn in again, and roughly pulled himself away. "Dammit, Spock," he groaned. "You can't do that."

Spock just looked at him blankly. Kirk had to turn away; he suddenly felt as though he could shake Spock, or scream at him. "Just go," he snapped.

Spock went to the door, but hesitated there. "I surmise that you were not being truthful when you said there was no problem."

"Yeah, maybe there is a problem," Kirk shot back before he could stop himself.

There was a long silence. Neither of them looked at the other, and Kirk could hear the blood pounding in his head.

At last, Spock spoke, but his voice was distant. "I see. I apologize if I have wasted your time."

And then, before Kirk could stop him, he was gone, and Kirk was left staring at the closed door wondering what the hell had just happened.

In something of a daze, he went to his bed and flopped down on his back. Had he really just fought with Spock about sex? The thought would be hilarious if it didn't make him feel like a knife had been twisted in his gut.

The crazy thing was, he didn't even care about the sex, or the lack thereof. He sighed and rolled over. Okay, he cared about the sex, he ruefully admitted to himself, but not enough to throw away the rest of… whatever it was they had. He did care, intensely, about being too preoccupied to function properly as Captain, and he was too disturbed for words by the idea of being manipulated by the older Spock into living out whatever they had had in the other universe. But those issues were fraught with complications, whereas sex… sex was simple. Or rather, it should be.

He briefly wondered whether he should just take Gaila up on her offer, but every time he thought of her his mind drifted back to Spock.

"I'm completely crazy," he told the ceiling.

The ceiling did not disagree.

*

The next day, Kirk went to the transporter room to see the Vulcans off. Spock was already there, holding himself even more stiffly than usual. He acknowledged Kirk's entrance with a terse, "Captain," and then studiously avoided looking at him.

Kirk gritted his teeth and did his best to pretend there was nothing amiss, even though Spock's coldness cut him like a blade.

Gaila and Scotty had already installed the missing parts to restore their transporter and communications functions. Kirk noticed that Gaila was in much brighter spirits, and idly wondered where she'd spent the night.

Stonn carefully avoided looking at Spock as he thanked Kirk for his assistance.

"No problem," said Kirk. "And here," he handed Stonn a disk. "It occurred to me that without communications you probably don't know how to find the new Vulcan colony, so that's got the coordinates on it."

"Our thanks," said Stonn, though he seemed utterly disinterested. "We will consider it."

It struck Kirk as decidedly odd that, having watched their planet be destroyed and then spent a year drifting in deep space, they would not immediately jump at the chance to find their species' new home, but he supposed it was none of his business.

The Vulcans took their places on the transporter pad, and Stonn gestured for Gaila to join them. She held back and wrinkled her nose. "Look guys," she said, "I'm real grateful that you saved my life and everything. And hey, I've fixed your ship up real nice. But I think I'm going to stay here." She turned around to Kirk and mouthed the words, _I can stay, right?_

Put on the spot, all Kirk could do was nod. He studiously avoided looking at Spock as he did so.

He was amused by how little protest the Vulcans put up at the idea of losing their guest; Stonn just said, "Very well," nodded in Kirk's direction and then gestured for Scotty to beam them back.

"Take care," said Kirk. Gaila waved furiously and blew them a kiss as they disassembled into their component molecules.

Once they were gone, Gaila bounced up to him and clutched him in a fierce hug. "Thanks Jimmy! So where do I work?"

"That's Captain Kirk," Kirk reminded her, mostly just as a stalling tactic, because he had a sudden sinking feeling. Gaila's specialty was computer science, and she really belonged in the science department, but would Spock ever forgive him for that? Perhaps he should assign her to Operations instead? Scotty would be happy…

Kirk glanced over to Spock, who was glaring at him, and he made his decision. Gaila was his friend and, more importantly, damn good at what she did. Spock was just going to have to deal.

Kirk glared back at Spock, then turned to Gaila, who was waiting with an expectant grin. "I'm assigning you to computer sciences. Go and see the quartermaster, then report to Commander Spock."

She clapped her hands in glee. "Thanks, Jimmy - er," her expression turned serious, "Captain Kirk." Then she flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Make sure your uniform's regulation," he called after her. "No modifications."

She turned around briefly to make a face at him, then bounded off. Kirk turned to Scotty with a shrug. "Gotta give the guys a chance, right?"

"Aye," Scotty sighed. And then he left, shaking his head, and Kirk and Spock were left alone.

"Captain," said Spock, "I must protest. I have no requirement for another computer scientist, and you cannot simply recruit new crewmembers to my department without discussing it first with me."

Kirk crossed his arms over his chest and met Spock's ice-cold glare. "Actually, I can. That's why I'm wearing Captain's stripes."

"Jim –"

"Commander," Kirk cut him off. "I'm ordering you to do your job."

Spock narrowed his eyes. "Very well. Captain."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk deals with a mutinous crew and learns that "routine" scientific missions are usually anything but.

Kirk almost jumped clean out of his seat when the buzzer to his quarters sounded; he'd been staring at a report so hard that his vision had gone blurry, though he could not have said what it was about.

The door slid open before he'd called, "Enter," which told him exactly who it was. Sure enough, a flurry of green flew across the room and Gaila hopped onto his desk.

"Come on," she said. "You've been holed up in here for hours."

"I'm working. And I give the orders around here."

"Uh huh." She crossed her arms. "And when did you last eat, _Captain_?"

He shrugged; he couldn't remember, and if he was honest had no idea what time it was anyway.

"That's what I thought. Come on, it's time to be with some real people."

He groaned a vague protest, but allowed himself to be dragged out into the hall. He listened to Gaila's excited chatter as they walked. To hear her tell it, the computer science department had a much more exciting and active social life than Kirk would have imagined, though he did wonder how much of it was in her head; she tended to read every action as having some sort of sexual motive, whether it was the way you glanced at someone across a room or the way you buttered your toast.

She also kept pausing to give everyone they passed an excited wave, putting them in the awkward position of having to choose between responding to her in kind and standing to attention in deference to their commanding officer.

"So," said Jim after this had happened several times. "How come you've been here five minutes and you know more people than I do after seven months?"

She shrugged. "Well, everyone here passed through the Academy at one time or another, right? Anyway, I don't know most of them. I just like watching them get flustered around you."

"I think you're the one who gets them flustered," he laughed.

"Well, obviously," she agreed. "But they also act weird around you. I still can't believe you're Captain."

"Yeah, me neither," he admitted.

The mess hall was busy, since Alpha shift had only just let off. Kirk's eye immediately gravitated towards Spock, who was sitting at a table in the corner with Sulu and Chekov. He started towards them, but Gaila tugged his sleeve and dragged him over to another table, where Uhura, Scotty and McCoy were sitting with a couple of engineers Kirk didn't recognize. They were all laughing, but stopped when Kirk and Gaila arrived. They started shifting around the table to make room, but Uhura just glared daggers at Kirk and Gaila – or perhaps just one or the other of them, Kirk couldn't be sure – and then got up and stalked away.

Kirk watched her go, utterly confused. The others around the table shifted uncomfortably and looked down at their plates. It was McCoy, unsubtle as ever, who spoke up. "So what was that about?"

"No idea," said Kirk honestly. He looked to Gaila for an explanation, but she just shrugged and looked mystified.

Scotty and Gaila soon began chatting animatedly about warp drives, and the other engineers gradually joined in, though they blushed whenever Gaila acknowledged anything they said. Kirk tuned them out, and found his attention drifting across the room to where Spock, Sulu and Chekov were having an intense discussion. It probably involved equations, Kirk mused. It was odd; while he'd always been perfectly capable at the mathematical subjects, he tended to be bored by people who talked in numbers. For some reason, that wasn't the case with Spock; he could probably listen to the Vulcan verbally derive Jeans' theorem and think it was one of the most exciting things he'd ever heard.

Feeling a swift kick under the table, he snapped his attention back to the present and saw Gaila glaring at him.

"I'm going to get some food," he muttered.

"Get me a lasagna?" Gaila called after him.

Kirk grumbled but agreed. While he waited for the replicator to dispense the order, he realized that McCoy was standing beside him. His arms were crossed and he was giving Kirk the same distinctly unimpressed look he'd used when Kirk had crawled back into their shared room at the Academy drunk at six in the morning.

"What've I done now?" Kirk sighed.

"Do you have any idea what it looks like for the captain of a starship to be taking orders from a cadet?" he hissed.

"You know, that's really unfair. It's hardly her fault she got left for dead while the rest of us graduated. Hey, I have the power to promote her to Lieutenant, right? She ought to be the same rank as Uhura, don't you think?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Not really," said Kirk agreeably.

McCoy huffed in frustration and dragged him to a corner. Curious eyes followed them from all around the room.

In a voice so low Kirk could barely hear, McCoy said, "I made her breakfast when you took off early enough times to know how much you fooled around with her at the Academy."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, I thought you said you weren't dallying with crew?"

"I'm not."

"Really?"

McCoy looked decidedly dubious, and Kirk magnanimously decided he couldn't blame him. "Yeah, really."

"Either way, don't you get what it looks like? Orion women have a reputation…"

"Now Bones," Kirk scolded, "that's downright xenophobic of you. You're a doctor, you know it's a chemical thing that makes men go crazy for them, and if they enjoy it who are we to judge them by our prudish standards?"

McCoy just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I was just glad you found a girl who wasn't going to whine to me about why you didn't call her the next day."

"Great, so we both won. What's your point?"

"You're really not involved with her now?"

"Really not." Kirk tried to smile, but it came out somewhat tight, and he couldn't help the way his eyes drifted towards Spock's table. "Why, do you want to?"

McCoy snorted in disgust. "Not likely. I don't take your cast-offs."

"All right then, let's eat." He clapped McCoy on the shoulder, retrieved his and Gaila's dinners, and returned to the table.

After dinner, Gaila went to walk off with the engineers, but Kirk tugged her aside. "Come with me. New crew evaluation. Procedure, you know."

"Yeah, right," she grumbled under her breath. She shot the engineers apologetic looks, and they watched wistfully as Kirk led her away.

Once they were in the privacy of his quarters, he slumped into a chair and gestured for her to take the other one, the one he still stupidly thought of as Spock's. She remained standing, though, leaning against the wall with her arms folded and her lips pursed.

"This had better be good," she said. "I was going to have both those boys."

"At the same time?" Kirk asked, momentarily distracted.

"Yup. Lots of catching up to do."

"Fair enough," he laughed, but then immediately sobered. "This will be quick, then you can go catch up with them. I just want to know what Uhura's problem is. Did you sleep with Scotty or what?"

"Nyota? Oh, she's just mad at us," Gaila replied with a casual shrug.

"Us? As in, both of us? Why? What'd we do?"

Gaila took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "Well, she's mad at me because Scotty wants me, which is ridiculous because, duh, of course he does, right? I can't help that."

"Right," Kirk agreed. "But that's hardly my fault. Does she think I should have left you with the Vulcans? That would just be cruel. I mean, it's you."

"Oh no, it's not that. Although," she wrinkled her nose. "She did say she thought a year with them ought to have done me some good, which is crazy. How could that much repression do anyone any good?"

"Has she met you?" Kirk laughed.

"I know, right?" She sighed and twisted a curl around her finger. "Anyway, she doesn't like you because she's got this weird protective thing going with Spock and she thinks you used him."

"I what?"

"Well, you know, with the seducing him and then the dumping him. Apparently breaking up with him because he wouldn't sleep with you is an asshole-ish thing to do. Her word. Me, I think it makes perfect sense. Hey, so if you're not with him now, you want to hook up?"

Kirk felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. "Is, um, is that what he told her?"

"What?" She looked at him with wide eyes. "That you'd hook up with me? Nah, I think that's just a given."

"Okay. But no, I meant about breaking up. And, um, about it being about the sex."

"Oh. No, I don't think so. He told her you'd broken up, because apparently they're like this or something," she crossed her fingers, "which makes no sense since they're not sleeping together. She asked if it was because of me, and I said no, it's because he's frigid."

Kirk leapt to his feet. "You said _what_?"

He wanted to shake her, but she looked at him with such innocent confusion that he just sighed and sat back down, holding his head in his hands.

"Is that wrong?" she hedged. "I mean, that's what you said to me, and next thing I know Nyota's telling me you two have broken up…"

"No," Kirk groaned. "That's not why we…" he trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. It was only a fight, and 'broke up' sounded so final.

"So you did sleep with him? How was – oh." Her tone became sympathetic. "Was it that bad?"

"No," said Kirk, daring to look up. "We didn't. We just had a fight, that's all. And it's nothing to do with the sex." Even as he said that, though, he felt the horrible sinking feeling of knowing that he'd allowed Spock to believe it was, and why hadn't it occurred to him how awful that was, to go so far only to allow Spock to believe Kirk was ending it because he was only interested in getting laid?

"So what is it about?"

"It doesn't matter. But shit, Gaila, you can't go around telling people about this."

"I didn't tell people. I told Nyota. And she already knew most of it. Speaking of which, hey, I thought it was supposed to be a secret?"

"It was," said Kirk darkly. He wondered how long Uhura had known; had Spock only told her after it was over, or had she known all along? "Spock had no right to tell her."

"Why not? You told me."

She had a point there, he had to admit. He felt absolutely wretched; how had he managed to screw this up so badly? And why did things with Spock have to be so damn complicated anyway? He looked at Gaila, and thought of the way they chatted so easily, and wished more than anything he could have that kind of easygoing relationship with Spock. It had been a bit like that sometimes, at least while they were playing chess or escaping from hostile aliens, but all seemed to have gone horribly wrong the moment he decided he wanted more.

On a sudden whim, he suggested, "So how about you and me, then?"

"Hmm." She gave him a contemplative look. "I'm not really into being with a guy who's obviously thinking about someone else." She heaved a sigh. "But it's you, so sure, why not?" She went immediately for the hem of her dress, but Kirk stilled her hand.

"I don't just mean that," he clarified. "I mean, we get along well, so why not, you know?"

She looked at him blankly. "I'm not following. You want me or not?"

"Yeah, of course. But not just for sex, you know?"

"No," she said slowly. "I'm not sure I do."

Exasperated, he ran a hand through his hair. "Back at the Academy, you said you loved me."

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I do. I also love chocolate, doesn't mean I don’t want pizza every now and then."

"Oh."

"Aww, sweetie." She dropped herself in his lap and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Since when do you want a girlfriend, anyway? Has pointy-ears got you that messed up?"

He scowled at her, but allowed her to wrap her arms around him and rested his head on her shoulder. She felt good; she was pleasantly soft and curvy, and he liked the way her curls fell across her shoulder and tickled his nose. But all he could think about was how much he missed the heat of Spock's body, the firmness of his wiry frame, the deliciously sensitive ears. Most of all, though, he missed the way Spock could make him feel, with a single glance, that everything was going to be okay.

*

Long interstellar journeys were dull at the best of times, but with the atmosphere that now pervaded the bridge they were downright torturous.

Kirk and Spock managed to avoid each other most of the time, and exchanged only the bare minimum of absolutely necessary words while on duty. Every time Uhura had to address him, she managed to make the word 'Captain' sound like the most cutting insult imaginable. Chekov and Sulu carried out their usual arguments in hushed tones, obviously wary of breaking the palpable tension.

It went on for three days before Kirk's yeoman, Janice Rand, handed him a report to sign and loudly remarked, "Jeez, you could cut the air in here with a knife. What's got you all so tense?"

Kirk froze in the action of signing the report and did not look up as he answered, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Yeoman."

He handed the report back to her and motioned for her to go, but she dug her heels in. "Seriously," she said. "None of the other girls will come up here any more. If I have to keep walking up and down in these boots I want to know why."

"Yeoman," said Kirk in a warning tone. As he looked up, though, he realized that Sulu and Chekov were peering back at him with identically curious expressions, and he felt suddenly guilty. "It's nothing," he said, going for a casual tone. "We just get bored when there's nothing to shoot at."

Rand rolled her eyes in Uhura's direction and mouthed, _Boys_. Uhura pursed her lips and glared at Kirk so fiercely he thought she might burn a hole in his head.

After that, he made an effort not to appear outwardly miserable. He even managed a bit of banter with Sulu and Chekov in their ongoing debate about dark energy. Yet every time Spock looked at him with that expression of cold professionalism, he ached.

The first time Spock had failed to show up for their nightly chess game (or lately, chess game-slash-make out session), Kirk had been heartbroken. Gradually, though, he adapted to his free evenings. He began to absorb himself in his work, writing up extensive crew evaluations that were still five months from being due, and catching up with even the more pointless parts of his paperwork. He spent a lot of time with Bones, irritating him no end, and with Gaila who was entertainingly mystified by her engineers' reluctance to engage in a threesome.

He took up fencing again with Sulu, which was actually fun; Sulu had a naturally positive demeanor and never asked anything more searching than his opinions on various holovids.

Days turned into weeks, and while he became accustomed to his new routine it never stopped feeling wrong and temporary. Every time he saw Spock he wanted to scream at him, to make him see that this was crazy. A few times, he paused outside Spock's quarters, steeling himself to enter, but he could never bring himself to do so. What would he say, anyway? He may not have been entirely honest about his reasons for turning Spock away, but there were other valid reasons, so what good would it do to talk about it?

At last, they drew near to their next destination. Kirk could barely wait; it was only a check-up on a colony, but at least it would distract him from what he'd done.

They were the entering the planet's orbit, and Kirk was making his way up to the bridge when he entered the turbolift to find Spock there.

He froze, wondering what he should do. He and Spock had developed a cold and minimalist approach to working together, but Kirk drew the line at being trapped in a confined space with him. He could back out, but Spock knew perfectly well where he was going and that would look ridiculous.

Before he could make up his mind, the doors closed behind him and the lift started moving. Kirk took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling, the floor, the wall… As ever, though, he found his gaze was drawn towards Spock. He looked good, which, frankly, was annoying; if Kirk looked anything like he felt, he imagined he must be a wreck. There was evidence of Spock's discomfort, though, in the firm set of his jaw, the careful neutrality of his expression, and the way he couldn't quite keep his hands still. It pained Kirk to think of how he'd learned to pick up on those signs.

Only seconds had passed since Kirk had entered the lift, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, able to stand the tension no more, he cleared his throat. "So, um, how's Gaila getting along?"

At first, Kirk wondered if Spock was just going to ignore him, but eventually he replied, "She has proved to be most efficient."

"Yeah, she's pretty good huh?"

"However," Spock continued, "I have observed that the rest of the department's productivity has suffered since her arrival."

Kirk gave a nervous laugh. "Ah. I'm guessing it's mostly guys down there?"

"Indeed. The preoccupation of human males with matters of a sexual nature is most illogical."

Kirk felt as though Spock had struck him. He looked for any sign of accusation in Spock's eyes, but his expression was utterly blank. Kirk felt the accusation nonetheless, and knew that he deserved it. He longed to explain, but no words came to him, and he had managed nothing more than a choking sound before the doors opened onto the bridge.

Kirk immediately, though reluctantly, switched his brain back to Captain mode and made his way swiftly to his chair.

"We're in orbit," Sulu declared a short while later.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu," said Kirk, trying to sound cheerful. "I want you to hand over the helm, then you, Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Uhura, you're with me. Transporter room in ten minutes."

Sulu and Chekov gave him enthusiastic grins at the order – neither had been off the ship in a while – but Uhura just said, "Yes, sir," in a flat tone.

Spock shot him an icy glare, but Kirk brushed it off. "You're always saying it's illogical for us both to go on away missions," he said by way of explanation. "I'm taking your advice for once."

"Taking most of the primary bridge crew is equally illogical," Spock shot back.

"Yeah, well," Kirk shrugged. "You told me yourself that I'm illogical."

Spock froze at the reference, and Kirk felt like an absolute jerk; Spock had said that to him right before they'd kissed for the first time.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said. He kept his voice light, hoping everyone else would think he was just referring to his having left Spock out of the landing party, but looking intently at Spock in the hope that he would understand how much he meant it.

Spock just turned back to his station, and Kirk sighed; he figured 'sorry' was unlikely to cut it anyway, but at least it was a start.

*

The planet was pleasant enough to lift even the darkest mood; it was warm, bright and green, and there was a vast lake that glittered in the sun. There was not a sign of another inhabitant, though, which was odd.

Chekov was frowning over the tricorder, unable to pick up a single life sign in the immediate vicinity. With a sudden pang, Kirk wished he'd brought Spock along. Spock, of course, would have pointed out how illogical that desire was, since 'no life signs' meant 'no life signs', whoever was reading the tricorder. All the same, he had the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to return to the ship and retrieve Spock.

"We should head up to the main settlement," said Kirk, anxious to get this mission over with as quickly as possible.

"Nah, I like it here," said Uhura.

Kirk whirled around at the uncharacteristically casual tone; to his astonishment, Uhura had stopped glaring at him and was lying down in the grass, absorbing the sun.

"Lieutenant, you are on duty," Kirk reminded her gently.

"Come on," she whined, "we never get any sun."

Kirk was utterly dumbfounded. Had he really just heard Uhura _whine_? At first, he was too shocked even to berate her for her insubordination. When he recovered himself, he checked that Sulu and Chekov were out of earshot – they had wandered down to the edge of the lake – and snapped, "Lieutenant, your opinion of my conduct in my personal life does not give you the right to refuse orders while on duty."

She raised herself up on one elbow, shaded her eyes from the sun with her other hand, and glared up at him. "You're an ass," she stated matter-of-factly.

Kirk glared right back at her. "Yeah," he snapped, "you're probably right. In fact, I'm enough of an ass to bring you up on charges for this."

She didn't even have the grace to look perturbed; she just shrugged, closed her eyes, and lay back on the grass. Exasperated, Kirk turned to find the others, but they were nowhere to be seen. He flipped open his communicator. "Sulu? Chekov? Report to beam-down point immediately."

With a start, he realized he could hear his own voice coming from the ground a little way off. On closer inspection, he found a discarded communicator lying in the grass. A little way from that was Chekov's abandoned tricorder, and from there a trail of clothing led down to the lake's edge, where Sulu and Chekov were swimming.

Kirk just stared at them for a moment, too shocked to even yell at them. He turned back to Uhura and saw that she had not moved; she was lying in the grass and singing softly to herself.

Kirk tried to summon the energy to yell at all three of them, but a sudden lancing pain tore through his head. His need to be back on the ship was suddenly so intense it hurt. He could hardly breathe, barely even cared that his crew was defying orders.

"Guys, we're beaming back," he tried to yell, but it came out as little more than a wheeze.

Clutching his head in agony, he said into his communicator, "Scotty, one to beam up."

The beam-up seemed unusually painful; he felt a lurch and nausea welled within him. When he arrived in the transporter room, he fell to his knees, clutching his head and groaning.

Scotty immediately alerted Sickbay, and then rushed to his side. He hauled Kirk to his feet, repeatedly asking, "Cap'n? What happened? Where're the others? Is Nyota okay?"

Kirk staggered a little before regaining his footing, and realized the pain in his head was gone. "Beam the others up," he ordered. 

Scotty took one step backwards towards the controls, but then his eyes glazed over. "Think I'll go an' check on 'em," he said, his voice distant.

"Mr. Scott," said Kirk in his most authoritative voice. "I am ordering you to beam them up."

Scotty went to the controls. Kirk let out a sigh of relief, but then Scotty pushed past him, and leapt onto the transporter pad just in time for the beam to take him.

Kirk cried out in frustration and kicked the wall, just as McCoy arrived. He spared an incredulous glare for Kirk's outburst and said, "What the hell's going on here? Scotty said there was an emergency."

"What's going on," Kirk yelled, "is that everyone's suddenly started defying orders. This is mutiny, dammit!"

McCoy frowned and began to say something, but then his eyes glazed over just as Scotty's had, and he laughed and clapped Kirk on the shoulder. "Jim," he said, "you need to lighten up. You know what we need? Shore leave. Somewhere with a bar. Preferably with dancing girls."

"No one's getting any shore leave," Kirk snapped. "And I'm your captain too, don't forget."

McCoy threw his head back and guffawed. "That is the most terrifying thing I've ever heard." Still laughing, he turned away and left the transporter room.

Kirk stared after him, then went to the control panel and put in an urgent call to Security. "I want two guards on the transporter room, and a transporter technician."

" _Isn't Mr. Scott with you_?" came the confused response.

Kirk scowled at the intercom. "Mr. Scott is…incapacitated."

The personnel arrived swiftly. Kirk ordered the transporter operator to beam up all four of the crew on the planet, and the guards to apprehend them.

They all acknowledged their orders, and the transporter operator prepared for beam-up. Satisfied that at least some of his crew still respected his authority, Kirk stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

Just as the transporter came to life, though, it shut down, and the operator started laughing.

"Ensign," Kirk snapped, but he was ignored.

The operator activated ship-wide communications and cheerfully announced, "Hey everyone, it's shore leave for all! Abandon your posts and head over to the transporter room, pronto."

Kirk leapt over to the control panel and shoved the transporter operator out of the way. Frantically, he called into the intercom, "Belay previous order," but the transmission cut off before he got out more than a syllable. One of the security guards grabbed at his shirt to wrench him away from the controls, and Kirk felt the shoulder seam tear open. He spun around to berate the guard, but was struck dumb when he just started laughing.

The first curious crewmembers arrived moments later, and the security guards held Kirk out of the way while they were beamed down to the planet right in front of him.

"All right," Kirk yelled. "I don't know what's going on here, but you all need to snap the hell out of it. Anyone caught beaming down to the planet will be facing a court martial."

To his horror, they all started laughing. While the security guards held him back, the transporter operator activated the intercom again and announced, "All personnel to report to the transporter room. Come and get some sunshine, folks."

Kirk wrenched himself free and looked desperately around the room. There was a queue of people snaking out of the door and down the corridor, waiting to be beamed down. There were too many; he couldn't take it. He felt nauseated and panicked, and suddenly felt that he needed to not be there. He needed to see the bridge, make sure it was okay… He pushed through the crowd that was gathering outside the transporter room and stormed towards the turbolift.

The bridge was empty, except for Spock who was seated in the command chair. Kirk felt irrational anger tear through him. "Get out of my chair," he yelled.

Spock leapt to his feet. "Captain," he said. "What is –"

Kirk pushed him roughly aside in his desperation to get to his chair, but Spock grasped his shoulder and held him still, as easily as though he were a child. Kirk swung around to throw him off, but Spock grabbed his other shoulder and held him at arm's length.

"Get off me!" Kirk bellowed.

"Jim," said Spock slowly. "What is going on?"

"I am ordering you to let go of me."

Spock let go, and Kirk slumped into his chair. "At least someone's obeying orders."

"Why are you not on the planet?" Spock asked slowly. "And why has an order been given for shore leave?"

"Whole damn crew's mutinied."

"I see," Spock said with careful indifference.

"Why don't you join them?"

"I am on duty."

"Yeah," Kirk gave a choked laugh. "Didn't stop anyone else. I'm releasing you from your duty – go down to the planet."

"I do not –"

"That's an order, Commander," Kirk snapped. "I want you off my bridge. Off my ship."

Spock inclined his head, and a minute frown creased his brow in the expression that meant he was calculating something.

"Very well," he said finally. "If that is your order."

Kirk said nothing, just stared glumly at the viewscreen. He could see the planet beneath them; it was blue and green, much like Earth, but with unfamiliar landmasses. He thought of the rest of the crew, leaving him in order to go and enjoy the sunshine, and felt sick.

The sound of the turbolift doors closing as Spock left him was unnaturally loud, and reverberated in his head for minutes afterwards. 

He could not have said how long he sat there, utterly miserable and in despair. He thought about Spock telling him that he deserved the captaincy and felt ridiculous for ever having allowed himself to believe it. Certainly, after the way he'd treated Spock, to have his whole crew walk out felt like no less than he deserved.

"Computer," he said. "How many crew on board?"

"One hundred and twelve personnel currently on board," the computer replied.

Kirk dropped his head into his hands. As though jolted into place, an unfamiliar memory stirred; suddenly, he felt as though he'd seen this before. The empty bridge, the feeling of abandonment; they were somehow familiar. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was just because this was his greatest fear, the loss of authority and of his crew.

Some time later, he repeated his question to the computer. Its answer now was fifty-seven.

He should probably go down to the planet himself, he thought; there was no point staying on an empty ship. Yet as hard as he tried, he could not remove himself from the chair.

Eventually, he gave up and tried the computer again. Twenty-one crewmembers were left.

They were in a stable geosynchronous orbit over a point on the planet's equator, so they didn't require any crew to keep the ship running in the short term. Even so, Kirk found himself becoming increasingly nervous as the numbers ticked down. Surely not everyone would go? What about Bones, or Gaila?

He tried calling Sickbay, but there was no response. There was no one in the computer science division, either.

He slumped back in his chair and tried the computer again. Just two people left on board; himself and whoever was operating the transporter, then.

There wasn't much he could do with a Constitution class ship on his own, he mused. Perhaps he could take a shuttle and roam the galaxy as a space pirate… He allowed himself a small inward smile; that would actually be kind of cool.

He was startled by the sound of the turbolift doors opening, the sound intruding into the silent emptiness of the bridge. He swiveled his chair around, and froze when he saw Spock standing in the doorway.

For a while, they just looked at each other. Kirk's breath caught in his throat. He was struck by the sudden overwhelming urge to touch Spock, to kiss him, but he could not move.

His head began to ache again, and his stomach roiled. He swiveled his chair back around and stared blankly out of the viewscreen.

He could hear Spock walking across the bridge towards him, but his footsteps were agonizingly slow. Kirk held his breath, counting them out, almost trembling with the need to reach out and touch him.

Spock came to stand beside him, but kept himself just out of reach. "Captain," he said slowly, warily, "I have ascertained that the crew has been infected with a virus originating on the planet's surface."

"Nice one, Sherlock," Kirk muttered under his breath. He couldn't bring himself to look at Spock, afraid that his tenuous control might snap.

Spock ignored his sarcasm, and continued, "I alone appear to be immune, which narrows down the likely pathway by which the disease affects the brain; it must rely on something that differs between human and Vulcan physiology."

"There is one obvious flaw in your logic," said Kirk. Spock gave him a sidelong glance and raised one eyebrow, and Kirk continued, "If it's only not affecting you because you're Vulcan, how come it didn't get me?"

"On the contrary, Captain," and to Kirk's annoyance, he actually sounded amused. "You are as infected as any of the others. The effect appears to be a suppression of the behavioral inhibitors that respond to authority, causing everyone to do exactly as they please. The rest of the crew wished for leave on the planet's surface; it seems you alone would prefer to be on the ship."

"That can't be right," Kirk insisted. "What about Scotty? He hates taking leave."

"For that, I have no explanation at present," Spock admitted. "Nonetheless, my conclusion fits the available facts. Indeed, you appear to be more adversely affected than the others I was able to observe. This is probably due to your need to not only remain on the ship but also to control it, for which you require their cooperation. It is really most fascinating."

Kirk felt simultaneously horrified, angry and mortified. He threw Spock a glare full of all the cold loathing he could muster, but Spock seemed unperturbed; in fact, he moved to stand in front of him. Kirk felt a sudden lurch; he wanted to touch Spock so badly it hurt. He tried to force himself to look away, but could not.

Spock seemed to sense his discomfort; a concerned frown briefly flitted across his face. "Captain," he said carefully, "I require your assistance if we are to rectify the situation."

And why did it pain him so much to hear Spock use such a simple word as 'we'? Kirk could hear his voice shaking as he said, "What do you want me to do?"

"I believe I can use the equipment available in Sickbay to extract the virus from you and synthesize a cure. If you would accompany me?"

Kirk nodded his agreement, but as Spock headed for the turbolift, he found he still could not move from his chair. The harder he fought to stand, the more agonizing the pain in his head became.

"Captain?"

"Spock," Kirk gasped. "I don't think I can – I can't move. Can you just do it here?"

Spock looked at him, calculating. "Can you more precisely describe the problem?"

"I don't know." Kirk clutched his head as a jagged bolt of pain tore through him. "It's like every time I try to move, it feels like someone's stabbing a blunt knife into my brain."

"Fascinating."

Kirk glared at him. "Thanks."

"The virus also appears to induce pain if the subject does not act according to their desire. That may explain why the crew not only disregarded your authority but also felt driven to the planet's surface."

"The subject," Kirk snapped, "is not going to be much help to you unless you can figure out a way around this."

"Do not try to move," Spock suggested.

Kirk sagged back in the chair, and the pain receded. He let out a long breath and smiled weakly at Spock, who had moved back to stand in front of him and was giving him a contemplative look.

"If the effects are in the mind," Spock mused, "it is possible that I may be able to alter them."

"A mind meld?"

"With your permission."

Spock sounded hesitant, and Kirk could hardly blame him in the circumstances. He was disturbed by how much he wanted it; he remembered the sensation of intimacy he'd experienced with the older Spock, and how much he'd wished it was his Spock inside his head. His heart racing and color flooding his cheeks, Kirk nodded. "Do it."

He was simultaneously terrified and excited, and he could barely breathe. He gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles went white as Spock placed his fingers in position with careful precision.

The touch almost undid him; the heat of Spock's fingers stirred memories he'd been fighting to repress, and Spock was leaning so close that Kirk could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. He closed his eyes, almost shaking with the effort it took not to reach up and pull Spock down to him.

"My mind to your mind," Spock intoned, his voice ghosting across Kirk's face in a way that made his skin tingle. "My thoughts to your thoughts…"

Kirk had to bite his lip to keep from moaning aloud. Spock's proximity was intoxicating, and the slow sensation of heightened awareness as Spock's consciousness drifted into his made him squirm in delight. It was nothing like melding with the older Spock; where that had felt like a gentle encroachment of something familiar, this was like a storm breaking inside his head.

He missed Spock so much that it physically hurt. Images flashed through his mind of moments of closeness they had shared before; over a chessboard, or the time Spock had woken him in his quarters, or the stolen kisses in the turbolift. He remembered the frustration, too, as Spock repeatedly rebuffed his advances, but that was overwhelmed by the sheer thrill of every shared glance and every betrayed emotion.

He felt dawning shame at how apparent those emotions were, and in his confusion it took a moment for him to realize that the thought was not his own. In horror, he realized that Spock could see everything he was thinking – which should have been obvious, he mentally kicked himself.

He felt Spock begin to withdraw. In panic, he grasped at Spock's shirt and pulled him closer, thinking with all the urgency he could muster that he wanted Spock to see this, wanted him to understand.

He sensed Spock's hesitation, and quickly recalled a visit Sulu had paid to him weeks ago, when he'd realized how much his involvement with Spock was affecting his ability to be captain. He recalled the older Spock and their meeting on Delta Vega, the lengths he'd gone to in order to bring this Spock and Kirk together. He tried to explain through memory how uneasy he felt about having no say in this, how he needed to be sure it was his own decision, not something he'd allowed someone else to convince him that he wanted.

If he concentrated, he could sense Spock's hesitant understanding. He became aware of a memory that was not his own, of the older Spock telling his younger counterpart that his relationship with Spock would define them both.

_I am troubled by this also_ , said Spock's voice in his head.

Kirk wished he'd learned how to do that, to speak into the meld, but the older Spock had told him it would take years for him to learn. Instead, he tried as hard as he could to think emphatic agreement.

Next, Spock showed him a scene in the transporter room, and Kirk could feel Spock's abject horror as he realized that he had been acting unprofessionally with regard to Gaila, because of his personal relationship with his captain. 

Another memory unfurled in his mind of one time they'd been together, of mounting desire and urgent need, but it was laced with fear that progressed into terror. He realized that this was Spock's memory, that the fear of losing himself and his inhibitions was what Spock had felt when they were together, and he felt shamed that he had never appreciated how hard it must have been for him.

Kirk felt suddenly bereft, and realized that Spock was breaking off the meld. He clutched harder at Spock's shirt, pleading with him to stay, but before he could even fully form the thought, he was alone in his head.

He opened his eyes slowly; his heart was racing and he was breathing heavily. Somehow, Spock had ended up leaning over him, one knee on the edge of the chair and one hand braced on the back beside his head. Their faces were mere inches apart; Spock's eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted on ragged breaths.

Kirk didn't think about it; he just moved slightly forward and brushed his lips softly against Spock's. A tremor ran through him; Kirk's hands fisted in Spock's shirt and pulled him closer still.

When Spock responded to the kiss, it was the most exquisite feeling Kirk could recall. He made a choked sound in the back of his throat and parted his lips, groaning when Spock's tongue pressed into his mouth.

Kirk was lost; he pulled Spock into his lap, kissed him hard and deep, ran his hands over Spock's back, his shoulders, through his hair. He thrilled in the way Spock bucked against him when he touched his ears.

Spock's hands were all over him; on his face, in his hair, then down his sides and under his shirt. Kirk responded in kind, sliding his own hands under Spock's shirt and up his back.

Spock's hands were hot on his skin, leaving a trail of fire everywhere they touched. They moved over him rapidly, tracing every line and curve. Then one was gone, and Kirk heard himself make a keening sound of protest, but then he felt it tugging at the fastening of his pants, and it was as though his brain had short-circuited. His hips bucked involuntarily into Spock's hand; Spock pressed his palm against Kirk's crotch, and he groaned aloud.

He realized his nails were digging into Spock's back, but he was powerless to stop. The kisses became frantic and rough, interspersed with monosyllabic pleading sounds. Spock deftly drew down the zipper of Kirk's pants and reached inside, and Kirk threw back his head and cried out.

Kirk distantly realized he was in the captain's chair of the Federation's flagship with his first officer's hand down his pants, and the thrill of that only drove him harder. He felt Spock pull him out of his pants and deftly feel out the shape and contours of his cock. He sucked Spock's lower lip into his mouth and brought one hand up to the tip of a pointed ear, bucking his hips into Spock's hand.

Spock's touch was electrifying; he had only to run his fingers up and down the length of him to have Kirk writhing in ecstasy. His hand twisted and tugged, setting up a mesmerizing rhythm. Kirk felt as though he were on fire; he squirmed and thrashed around, moaned into their kiss, and finally pulled away, gasping and shaking as he spilled his release over Spock's hand.

He fell back in the chair, breathless and exhausted, and pulled Spock down with him. Spock went willingly, collapsing onto his lap and even allowing Kirk to hold him for a short, exquisite moment, before pulling away.

Then, to Kirk's utter astonishment, Spock began to lick his own hand. His expression was one of scientific curiosity, and it was perhaps the hottest thing Kirk had ever seen.

When he caught Kirk staring at him, Spock paused. "The taste is…fascinating," he explained. "Vulcan physiology uses little sodium chloride, so I am unaccustomed to –"

He cut himself off when Kirk let out an involuntary groan. "Sorry," he said, "I just… I mean, you're talking about the taste of my come in the same way you report sensor readings."

"You consider this offensive?"

"Hell no," Kirk laughed. He could actually feel his cock beginning to twitch back to life already. "Actually, it's pretty much the hottest thing I've ever seen."

The look Spock gave him then, the combination of the raised eyebrow and the slight creases at the corners of his eyes, was somewhere between curious and amused. Kirk felt delight and relief bubble up inside him, and could barely contain his laughter, which only caused Spock's eyebrow to climb higher.

Kirk pulled Spock closer to him and moved his hand to the fastening of his pants. "Can I?"

Spock's eyes flickered away as he responded, "Unnecessary."

At Kirk's quizzical expression, Spock shyly took his hand and moved it a little lower, where there was a distinct wet patch. Kirk couldn't help himself; he grinned wickedly. "Really?"

Spock moved Kirk's hand away and began straightening his uniform. Through the fog in his mind, Kirk slowly realized what had happened. "Your hands, huh? They're that sensitive?"

Spock said nothing, but a flush of green began to suffuse his cheeks, providing all the answer he needed.

"So I guess you're affected after all," Kirk surmised once he'd recovered his breath.

Spock regarded him carefully for a moment before replying, "Not by the virus."

"Oh." Kirk frowned, then realized what that meant and his eyes went wide. "Oh. Well, you want to try fixing my head again? I'll try not to distract you this time."

Spock looked uncomfortable, and Kirk realized with a sinking feeling that perhaps Spock wouldn't want to get inside his head again. There was a long silence before Spock explained, "I was able to remove the effects of the virus, though not the virus itself, in approximately three-point-two seconds."

"Oh."

"I am afraid that I maintained the meld somewhat longer than necessary," Spock admitted with such tentativeness that it sounded as though he were confessing to something terrible.

Kirk reached for his hand, hoping to put him at ease. "It's okay," he said. "I'm…glad."

Kirk suddenly realized that he was sprawled in the captain's chair with his cock hanging out of his pants. With a shy smile, he tucked himself away and caught Spock's eye as he did so. "Well," he laughed. "That was…"

"Not unpleasant," Spock filled in.

"Yeah," Kirk acknowledged with a laugh, but it faded quickly as his elation subsided enough for him to remember the details of their meld. "But didn't we just convince ourselves that this," he gestured between them, "was a terrible idea?"

"We do appear to share similar concerns," Spock agreed.

"Right, so –" Kirk cut himself off with a grimace as he realized that by continuing this conversation in a time of crisis, he was only confirming his own fears. "You know what? We have work to do. I want my crew back."

Spock inclined his head. "I trust you are able to leave the bridge now?"

Kirk hopped down from the chair and raked his hand through his hair. He suddenly felt acutely embarrassed by his actions; what did it say about him that when a virus pushed him to do exactly what he wanted, his instinct was to possessively claim his ship?

"Spock," he said as they entered the turbolift, "do you think you could, you know, not mention this to anyone?"

Spock's eyebrow climbed with alarming alacrity. "I do not believe that describing our…activities in my report on this incident would be in anyone's interests."

"Good," Kirk laughed, "but not what I meant. I was referring to… you know, the stuff before that."

"Ah. You are experiencing embarrassment at the revelation that you feel emotional attachment to the ship."

"Something like that," Kirk mumbled to the floor.

"Does it reassure you to know that this is not, in fact, a revelation to me?"

Kirk could almost feel the color draining from his face. "Um, no. No, that doesn't help."

Spock tilted his head a fraction and looked briefly away, and Kirk was thrilled to realize he recognized the gesture as Spock's approximation of a shrug. As they left the turbolift, Kirk allowed their hands to brush together and said, "I've missed you."

Spock tensed slightly, though whether at the contact or the sentiment, Kirk couldn't be sure.

"If you would excuse me," said Spock a moment later. "I require a change of clothing."

Kirk's first instinct was to ask if he could join him, but he carefully squashed it. "Sure, I'll meet you in Sickbay."

And perhaps repressing that urge was only a small victory of professionalism, especially in light of the gross breach of professional conduct they'd just committed on the bridge, but Kirk was determined to count it as a victory nonetheless.

*

Thrilled though he was to be working closely with Spock again, it wasn't long before Kirk's patience began to wear thin. He was jabbed with needles and gave seemingly endless samples of blood (and earned himself a disapproving eyebrow when he asked whether there were any other bodily fluids Spock needed), and yet he began to doubt that they were getting any closer.

It didn't help that he felt pretty much useless; he provided the materials, so to speak, and was occasionally allowed to hold things, but otherwise he pretty much just sat there and watched Spock work. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy that – on the contrary, watching Spock apply that single-minded concentration was one of his favorite activities, although he obviously preferred it when said concentration was applied to himself – but he had limits, and they'd been at this for hours.

"Are we getting anywhere yet?" he asked eventually.

Spock paused what he was doing. "This is not my field," he explained, sounding almost apologetic. "Were Doctor McCoy not incapacitated, he could accomplish this task far quicker than I."

"Did you just compliment Bones?" Kirk asked in disbelief.

Spock gave him a pointed look. "He is overly emotional, is frequently rude to patients and superiors alike, his objections to the application of logic are irrational, and I believe he is dependent on intoxicating beverages." He paused and turned his attention back to the solution he was stirring. "Nonetheless, he is a gifted doctor."

Kirk bit back a grin. "Don't worry, he secretly likes you too."

Spock's eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing, just prepared a hypospray and gestured for Kirk to roll up his sleeve. Kirk complied, adding, "At least you ask. Sort of. Bones just goes for the neck."

An unreadable expression crossed over Spock's face. He held Kirk's arm gently with one hand and idly toyed with his ripped shoulder seam with his thumb, and the touch set Kirk's skin alight. He felt his cock twitch and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately willing down his response. It was as though he were a hormonal teenager; since when could a completely innocent touch undo him so completely?

He was so distracted that he almost leapt clean out of the chair when he felt the cold hypo press against his skin. In an attempt to cover his discomfort, he hurriedly tugged down his sleeve. "So how do we know if it's worked?"

"This formula successfully eradicated the virus in your blood sample," Spock explained. He raised a hand to Kirk's face. "If you would allow me to monitor the effects?"

"Yeah, of course." Kirk fought to quash the lurch of pleasure at the thought of allowing Spock inside his head again.

Spock arranged his fingers in position and Kirk braced himself for the intrusion of his mind. This meld was different, though; rather than the fierce maelstrom of its predecessor, it felt a lot more like melding with the older Spock, more serene and natural. He felt a vague sense of irritation and was momentarily confused, until he remembered how much Spock disliked reminders of his older counterpart.

Amused, he tried to think of something else, but his mind drifted back to their encounter on the bridge. He recalled the exquisite feeling of Spock's hands on him, the heady sensation of his kisses…

He felt Spock's mind slip from his and let out a small groan of disappointment, but quickly recovered himself and asked, "So?"

"The formula is effective. Your attempts to distract me were not."

Kirk gave a genial shrug. "Can't blame a guy for trying. So now we head down to the planet and give everyone a dose?"

"I believe it would be wise to first administer the antidote to Doctor McCoy, and to allow him and his staff to treat the rest of the crew, as he is more qualified to deal with any potential side effects."

Kirk's head snapped up. "Side effects? You didn't warn me of any side effects."

"The potential is unavoidable, especially with such limited testing. However, since there is no alternative…"

"Right, I know," Kirk grumbled.

Spock prepared another hypospray and gestured Kirk towards the door. Kirk made to leave, but hesitated.

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

"No, it's just…" Kirk turned around and looked intently at Spock, trying – and failing – to gauge how receptive he would be to a little bit of illogical behavior. "I mean, how often are we going to get the run of a completely empty ship?"

"I believe we have already taken inappropriate advantage of that fact," Spock pointed out, not unreasonably.

"Well, yeah," Kirk shrugged, and damn, he was going to have a hard time not telling McCoy that he'd had sex in the captain's chair. A grin spread over his face as an idea came to him. "Can I just take one tiny bit more advantage?"

Spock's eyebrow quirked. "It is late," he said. "Twenty-three-thirty-two ship's time, and I calculate that it is approaching sunset at the beam-down point on the planet's surface."

"Okay, but this won't take a minute."

Kirk took the hypospray from Spock's hand, laid it carefully to the side, and led Spock through to McCoy's office. Once there, he flopped into the doctor's chair, spun it round a few times, and with a wicked grin, gestured for Spock to join him.

Spock looked hesitant, but slowly moved to stand in front of him. Kirk grasped his shirt and pulled him down into a fiercely passionate kiss.

"Jim," Spock protested between kisses, "we really do not have time for –"

"It's okay," said Kirk, threading his fingers through Spock's hair and touching his ears. "This is all I wanted to do."

Spock gave him one last, languid kiss, and then straightened himself up and tugged imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt. He raised his eyebrow and gave Kirk a distinctly disapproving look. "You believe that Doctor McCoy would disapprove, and derive amusement from this."

"Hey," Kirk protested with a smirk, "he committed mutiny. I think we're even."

Spock looked contemplative for a moment, then shook his head. "Most illogical."

Kirk leapt to his feet with a grin. "Yep." He laid a hand on Spock's arm and felt a small thrill when he didn't tense or pull away.

They exchanged a lingering look, then made the short walk down the hall to the transporter room. Spock began readying the controls, but then he paused and looked up at Kirk. "One of us will need to remain behind to operate the transporter," he said. "I believe I should beam down –"

"No way," Kirk interrupted. He took the hypospray from Spock and held it up. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited to stab Bones with one of these?"

"It is logical for me to beam down to the planet, since I have immunity to the virus."

"Can I get infected again?"

"I do not believe so. However –"

"Well then." Kirk hopped onto the transporter pad. "I'm not sure I know how to work that thing anyway."

Spock reluctantly complied, and moments later Kirk found himself on the planet's surface. The sun was beginning to dip over the horizon, but it was still warm, and the grass by the lakeside was littered with lounging crewmembers.

Kirk quickly scoured the crowds; he saw Gaila entertaining a group of engineers and security personnel, and a short way away Sulu and Chekov were fencing with sticks. He did a double take when he saw Scotty sitting against a tree with Uhura's head in his lap, but steered clear of them.

Finally, against another tree, he saw McCoy with a drink in hand, and Nurse Chapel sitting cross-legged beside him.

"Trust you to find the booze stash," said Kirk with a roll of his eyes.

"Jim! See you finally came to your senses. Drink?"

"Seriously, where'd you get that?"

McCoy shrugged. "Locals are fine, just not bothered about getting in touch with the Federation."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Figures," he muttered. Then, without warning (and taking enormous pleasure in the action), he descended on McCoy and jabbed him in the neck.

"What the hell!" McCoy roared, dropping his drink and leaping to his feet. He looked as though he was about to take a swing at Kirk, but then he swayed on his feet. He looked disoriented for a moment, and Kirk prepared to catch him if he collapsed, but then he recovered himself, straightened up, and hit Kirk anyway.

Kirk staggered back and laughed. Clutching his jaw, he flipped open his communicator and called for Spock to beam them up.

*

There wasn't much for Kirk to do while McCoy and his team distributed the formula, so he dragged Spock back down to the planet. They oversaw the crew's return to the ship, Kirk taking particular delight in frightening them with words like 'mutiny' and 'insubordination.'

By the time the last of them had beamed up and the colonists had been provided with the formula for the cure, the sun had long set, and twin full moons cast an eerie glow over the lake. The trees rustled overhead, but otherwise there was no sound.

Spock looked around silently for a while before speaking. "We should return to the ship."

"Probably," Kirk agreed. "But everyone else got a day's shore leave, so I figure we're due some downtime too."

"Vulcans do not require –"

"Humor me?"

Spock relented and walked with him down to the edge of the lake. A light breeze sent ripples across the surface, and the moons' reflections sent light dancing in all directions. Kirk stood still for a moment, just staring at the water, but gradually his attention drifted to his side. Spock had a way of standing perfectly, almost unnaturally, still that intrigued him.

Spock seemed to become aware of the scrutiny; his eyes darted towards Kirk and his eyebrow climbed. Kirk realized he was unconsciously mimicking Spock's stance, with his hands behind his back. He turned away and sat down on a rock, leaning back and looking up at the moons.

"Did you have some purpose in bringing me here?" Spock asked.

Kirk wrapped his arms around his knees and looked back at the lake. He did have a purpose, of course; it was pleasant here, and if he and Spock needed to have a difficult conversation he figured he'd rather do it here. He wasn't good at the big conversations, though; confronting dangerous aliens who wanted to kill him, he could handle, but dangerous aliens he'd stumbled into an awkward relationship with were another matter entirely.

"Jim?"

"I don't know," Kirk sighed. "But it's quiet here, so… anything you want to talk about?"

He felt like a coward for putting the onus on Spock, but he figured they probably needed to approach this logically and Spock could certainly be counted on for that.

Spock came to sit beside him, but looked directly ahead at the lake. "I am not comfortable with matters of an emotional nature," he admitted.

Kirk chuckled softly to himself. "Yeah, me neither. And I don't even have a Vulcan upbringing as an excuse."

There was another long silence before Kirk continued, "So forget the emotional stuff. Logically, what do we do?"

"There are no specific regulations governing," Spock shifted uncomfortably, "personal relationships within the chain of command. Nonetheless, they are frowned upon."

"And with good reason," Kirk muttered under his breath.

"Indeed. I am perturbed that I allowed my professional judgment to be compromised."

"Me too," Kirk sighed. "I thought it was just us being together that was the problem, but then we haven't exactly been working too well over the last few weeks either, have we? Until today, I mean."

Spock turned his head towards Kirk, evidently surprised. "The ship has been running most efficiently."

"Maybe, but Rand wasn't wrong about the atmosphere. We can't let that happen."

Spock considered that for a moment. "Having become aware of the problem, I believe I have sufficient control over my mind to prevent any…outside influences from interfering with my duty. Can you do the same?"

"No," Kirk admitted. "But I'm working on it."

"Logically, that is something that we need to work on irrespective of other… decisions. As such, it should not be a factor in said decisions."

"Okay." Kirk took a deep breath. "What next? The fact that you'll apparently grow up to be a manipulative bastard?"

"I agree that my other self's interference was inappropriate."

Kirk hugged his knees closer to himself and rested his chin on them. "I don't like feeling as though I have some sort of destiny to live up to. I want to believe I'm in control of what I do."

"The two realities are independent of one another. There is no reason that anything that happened in the other timeline should come to pass in this one."

"And yet here we are." Kirk turned his head and took in Spock's stiff posture. "I take it you also think the other us were… you know, together?"

"I had drawn that conclusion."

"It must have really been something for him – you – to go to that much effort to make sure it gets repeated here. Can you believe you get to that age without getting sick of me?"

"It is somewhat difficult to believe."

Kirk gave him a playful swat on the arm. "I can't decide," he said. "Maybe nothing would have happened if we didn't know about the other timeline, but it did, and the last few weeks have been enough to prove I really do want it. And apparently it worked for them, which is great. But on the other hand," he exhaled slowly and looked away. "Doesn't it feel like a lot of… you know, pressure?"

"That does not need to be the case. As I said, there is no reason that anything must play out the same way in this timeline."

"No. I guess not." Kirk didn't add that there was a part of him that wanted it to, that yearned to be so important to someone that his picture would be the only thing they carried with them on an apparent suicide mission, and that he was absolutely terrified of that part of him.

They were silent for a long time. Kirk had one more nagging doubt, but couldn't think of how to bring it up. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry I let you think there were… other reasons I didn't want to deal with this," he gestured between them.

"I do not believe your dissatisfaction was entirely feigned."

"No," Kirk conceded. "Maybe not. But it's not that important, not more important than…" Than what, he wasn't really sure. "I hope you didn't think… this afternoon, I mean, you didn't have to –"

"You did not coerce me," Spock assured him, distinct amusement in his voice. "I regret that I lost control."

Kirk's head snapped around to him. "Do you? Regret it?"

Spock shifted uncomfortably. "No," he admitted at last, and Kirk let out a long breath. "I must confess," Spock continued, "that I had been…hoping for a reason to meld with you, ever since I witnessed your meld with my counterpart."

"You were jealous?"

"That would be illogical."

"Uh huh," Kirk laughed. He leaned his head on Spock's shoulder, and was relieved when Spock shifted to accommodate him and put one arm around his shoulders. Kirk slipped his arm around Spock's waist and said, "I don't need you to explain, and if you don't want to do it again that's okay, I'll deal. But bear in mind I'm a guy, and illogical as it might be, I want you. A lot. So you have to be able to deal with that."

By way of response, Spock drew him closer, and his body was warm against the gathering chill of the air.

Kirk grinned against Spock's shoulder, then lifted his head and captured Spock's lips with his own. It was tentative at first, as they explored whatever new understanding they had reached, but the heat built swiftly. Their hands roamed freely as their lips moved against each other, and Kirk swung himself over to straddle Spock's lap.

"Jim," Spock murmured between kisses, "we will be missed if we do not return to the ship."

"In a minute."

Kirk kissed along Spock's jaw and up to his ear, running his tongue along the edge and biting the tip. Spock gripped at Kirk's hips and made the most endearing sound in the back of his throat. That was more than Kirk could take; he groaned, kissed Spock hard on the mouth, and slipped his hands under his shirt. He allowed his fingers to slide under the waistband of his pants and moved them slowly around to the front, waiting for some sign of protest. None was forthcoming; instead, Spock actually shifted to allow him more room.

Kirk could feel his hands shaking as he worked at the fastening of Spock's pants; he'd imagined this moment so many times he couldn't believe it was real. The kiss became deeper, and he felt Spock's hands tangle in his hair.

Then he heard the distinct sound of a throat clearing nearby. He froze, then slowly looked up, straight into the horrified face of Leonard McCoy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk is mostly enjoying his newfound freedom, McCoy has issues, and distress calls get in the way.

"Hey Bones, what's up?"

Kirk was going for brash and cocky, but he could hear the weakness in his own voice. He slowly straightened up and refastened Spock's pants. Spock had completely frozen beneath him. Kirk tried to climb off him, but Spock's hands were gripping his waist so tightly it hurt.

McCoy's expression was murderous; it reminded Kirk of the time he had accidentally set fire to McCoy's bed back at the Academy. The doctor said nothing, though, just pointedly flipped open his communicator.

"We were, er, just about to beam up," said Kirk. He managed to climb off Spock's lap and pulled the Vulcan to his feet. Spock resolutely kept his back to McCoy, and his face was dangerously blank.

McCoy threw Kirk a look of disgust. "Your fly's open," he snapped. Kirk hurriedly zipped himself up just as he heard McCoy bark into the communicator, "Three to beam up."

The beam-up was unusually disorienting, or perhaps it was just the nervous churning in Kirk's gut. He tried to remind himself that he'd done nothing wrong, that McCoy had caught him _in flagrante_ more times than he could count, but he could feel the tension radiating from Spock and felt sickened with himself for putting him through this.

When they materialized, Kirk instinctively reached for Spock's arm, but Spock edged away and, without looking at either of them, stalked from the transporter room.

Scotty looked up warily from the controls. "Problem, Cap'n?"

"No." Kirk glared at McCoy, then made to go after Spock. He was restrained by a hand on his arm and a reciprocal glare.

"My office," McCoy ordered in his most icy tone. "Now."

Kirk opened his mouth to protest, but before he could think of anything to say he was bodily hauled from the room, a puzzled Scotty staring after them.

The moment they were alone in his office, McCoy turned on him. "What the hell was that?"

Kirk stood his ground. "It's none of your business, is what it is."

"I can't believe I was worried about how it would look for you to be dallying with an Orion, only to find you're banging your first officer! Are you out of your tiny little mind?"

"I'm still not seeing how it's any of your business."

"Dammit Jim, the welfare of this ship's crew _is_ my business."

"Welfare?" Kirk leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Go on, tell me how my personal life in any way affects the welfare of this ship's crew."

"Where to start?" McCoy threw his hands in the air. "You're the captain. Anything that compromises your judgment –"

"Now wait a minute." Kirk felt anger flare within him, and he advanced on McCoy with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You have no right to question my fitness for command. Give me one example of when my judgment has been compromised."

"Do I need to remind you how you started a fight on a colony after Spock was injured?"

It took Kirk a moment to place the reference. He stopped in his tracks and wracked his brain for a moment before pulling up the memory of their first ever mission. "That has nothing to do with this – I would have reacted the same if it was anyone else. Anyway, there wasn't anything going on between us then."

"Nothing?" McCoy sneered in skepticism, but Kirk just replied with a shrug. Undeterred, McCoy continued, "And what do you suppose will happen when you're finished with him? You've still got more than four years left with him as your first officer."

"We're both professionals. We'll figure it out."

"Maybe _you_ will. You can just flit onto the next unfortunate who catches your eye, but dammit Jim, he's a Vulcan! They don't mess around the way you do. Hell, if I hadn't just seen what I saw I'd swear they didn't do casual sex at all."

"So, what, you're worried about _him_ now?" Kirk shot back in disbelief.

"Hardly," McCoy sneered. "But I've seen what a pissed off Vulcan can do, and it ain't pretty. Or don't you remember when the pointy-eared bastard tried to kill you?"

Kirk raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. Yes, he remembered that, but he couldn't see how it was relevant to this situation; it didn't seem terribly fair to judge people according to how they acted when they were deliberately provoked right after losing their planet. Anyway, in retrospect, he found the thought of Spock losing control like that kind of hot. McCoy didn't need to know that, though, so he settled for, "That's my problem, and I'll deal with it when it happens." 

McCoy looked unconvinced. "Well I'm not patching you up when it does. Goddammit, Jim, this has to be the worst idea you've ever had, and you've had some god-awful ideas."

"Maybe," Kirk shrugged. "But isn't it better that I'm sticking closer to my rank?"

"No, it's not." McCoy screwed up his face. "How can you even stand it? You might as well fuck a computer."

Kirk's veneer of calm was instantly shattered, and there was real venom in his voice as he shot back, "He's not a computer. You don't know anything about him."

"I know that he marooned you on a fucking ice planet."

"So what? You want me to hold a grudge for something he did right after his whole planet was destroyed and his mom was killed? It worked out fine, didn't it?"

"Sure, but only because by some ridiculous fluke he chose to maroon you on the same planet where Nero ditched the other Spock. Have you even thought about what would have happened if he hadn't been there?"

"But he _was_ there, and everything turned out okay, and if I'm over it then you damn well should be too."

"And what happens the next time you piss him off? You trust him not to stab you in the back again? Dammit, you wind me the fuck up sometimes, and I'd never do something like that."

Kirk's retort died on his tongue as he started laughing. "Is that what this is about? You're jealous?"

McCoy shot him a withering look. "The hell I am."

"So what's the problem?"

"Aside from the fact that screwing with your first officer is a bad idea even if he wasn't a Vulcan who can kick your ass? Then how about that he has much feeling as a tricorder and will leave you to die on some ice planet as soon as look at you?"

"Well," Kirk stuck his chin out in defiance, "I happen to think none of that's true."

"If you really see no problem with this, why did you lie about it?"

Kirk was so stunned that the only response he could get out was, "Huh?"

"You heard me. You told me all you were doing was playing chess and drinking tea."

"That _was_ all we were doing," Kirk insisted. "This has only been going on for…" he trailed off as he realized that actually they'd only consummated their relationship earlier that afternoon. Unsure when he should place its beginning and not feeling remotely like explaining the complicated and somewhat convoluted nature of whatever was going on between them, he shrugged and finished, "Not long."

"And you didn't think to mention it to me?"

"When this is how you react?"

"Are you surprised? As far as I know you're only tolerating each other, then I walk in on you rutting on him." He screwed his face up. "Seriously, Jim, I know you're into aliens, but that's disgusting."

"Disgusting?" Kirk echoed. For some reason, that one word hurt more than any of the yelling that had preceded it. His anger froze, and he suddenly felt the need to be anywhere else. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the office.

"Don't expect me to be here when it all goes to shit," McCoy called after him. His tone was one of exasperation rather than real bitterness, but Kirk wasn't interested.

*

Predictably, there was no answer when Kirk pressed the buzzer for entrance to Spock's quarters. He used his command override without a second thought; after all, Spock had done the same to him once.

He stormed in prepared for a confrontation, and stopped short when the sight that greeted him was Spock sitting cross-legged on the floor, apparently meditating. Kirk hesitated, not knowing what to do with himself. He considered beating a hasty retreat, but he really wanted to have this out now before it had time to fester and turn into something he couldn't control. He was tired and looked longingly at Spock's bed, but he didn’t think they were at that stage of familiarity yet. In the end, he settled for sitting at the desk.

Watching Spock meditate was calming. His face was peaceful and unlined; Kirk had the stray thought that he looked downright beautiful, but quickly quenched it. He let his eyes wander over the ears, which immediately brought to mind the choked, gasping sound Spock would make when he nipped at them in just the right way. He snapped his attention away before he could get too distracted and found that his gaze landed on Spock's hands. That was even worse; he now knew exactly how sensitive Spock's hands were – enough that he got off on giving Kirk a hand job – and that thought did nothing to dampen his arousal.

Getting turned on by watching Spock sit on the floor was probably not productive, he reasoned, so he looked around for something else to occupy him. Spock had little in the way of personal possessions, so Kirk swiftly gave up and switched on the computer terminal; if he was going to hang around, he may as well get some work done.

They were to remain in orbit for another day, to ensure that everyone was fully over the effects of the disease. After that, their next mission was another routine scientific investigation of a planet in a nearby system. Nearby, though, still meant five light-years, so it was still a week away at warp six. With some time to kill, Kirk began drafting new quarantine regulations in light of their recent experience.

He became so absorbed in his work that he was startled some time later by the rustle of fabric behind him as Spock moved. He swung the chair around in time to see Spock rise to his feet and straighten his uniform, all the while regarding Kirk with a curiously raised eyebrow.

"Hey," said Kirk genially. "Feeling any better?"

"Somewhat."

To Kirk's relief, Spock didn't ask what he was doing in his quarters uninvited. On the contrary, he seemed utterly unsurprised; Kirk was a little discomfited by just how pleasant that felt.

"I've been writing new quarantine protocols," Kirk explained with a gesture towards the terminal.

Spock's eyebrow shot up as he took the other seat. "That is… logical."

Kirk smiled ruefully to himself. "You don't have to sound so surprised. Anyway, you should probably have a read and translate it into bureaucrat-speak before I send it to Starfleet."

Spock turned the screen so that he could see it, and for a while they worked together, discussing the optimum balance between prudence and efficiency. After no more than a half hour, though, Kirk began to find it difficult to concentrate, and when he gave an involuntary yawn Spock stopped mid-sentence and gave him a disapproving look.

"It is late," he said. "We may conclude this discussion once you have rested."

Kirk began to protest, but it was drowned by another yawn. "All right," he conceded. Then he remembered why he had broken into Spock's quarters in the first place and hesitated, unsure what, if anything, he should say. He held out a hand to touch Spock's in a Vulcan kiss, and let out an audible sigh of relief when Spock responded in kind.

It was strange how a touch so innocent by human standards could make him feel as though an electric current were prickling at his skin.

"You are troubled," Spock observed. He glanced at their joined hands, and Kirk had the sudden and disturbing understanding of how Spock was able to so accurately gauge his mood. 

Kirk stilled, but did not withdraw his hand. He considered a brush-off – after all, he was considerably calmer than he had been leaving McCoy's office – but his curiosity got the better of him. "You mean you aren't? You seemed pretty pissed when we beamed up."

Spock pulled his hand away and focused on a point over Kirk's shoulder. "My emotional control has been lacking," he admitted. "I have been meditating in an attempt to –"

"Wait," Kirk cut him off. "You think you're lacking emotional control? Is that what – earlier, is that what that was about?" Spock's eyes flickered to him briefly, then away again. Kirk's heart sank. "Come on, Spock," he pleaded, "please don't tell me you've decided to regret that."

"Regret is an illogical emotion, since the past cannot be altered."

"I don't know," Kirk gave a bitter laugh. "I think we've kind of learned than it can." With a sigh, he stood and began to pace the room.

"Is that your wish?" Spock asked quietly. "If you could adjust the timeline, would you have our association remain professional only?"

Kirk stopped pacing and looked at Spock. He had remained sitting, and the intensity in the gaze he had fixed on Kirk gave the lie to the disinterest in his tone and expression. With a wry smile, Kirk said, "It would make things so much easier, wouldn't it? We wouldn't be worrying about having our judgment impaired, my best friend wouldn't be mad at me…" He sighed. "But no, that's not my wish. I wish we could stop having these horrible intense conversations. I wish you could let yourself go enough to admit you want this. But I can deal with those things, because even though it's illogical and I don't even understand why I want it, I do. I can't fight that."

Spock took a moment to absorb that before rising slowly to his feet. He took a step towards Kirk, then caught himself. "You refer to Doctor McCoy?"

It took Kirk a moment to understand what Spock was referring to. "Yeah. I gather he's not planning to send us a congratulatory card."

"I had presumed you kept him informed of… the situation."

"You mean like you told Uhura?" Kirk hadn't meant that to come out as confrontational as he did, so he hurriedly added, "Well, I figured he wouldn't be so understanding. And hey, turns out I was right."

Spock looked at the floor. "I am sorry that this has caused you difficulties."

"Hey." Kirk closed the gap between them and laid a hand on Spock's shoulder. "It's fine. He'll get over it. I think he's mostly just pissed that I didn't tell him." With his other hand, he reached for Spock's and laced their fingers together. He still felt a thrill every time Spock allowed a touch like that. He idly traced a thumb over the back of Spock's hand. "So you can pick up on what I'm thinking just from this?"

"Not exactly." Spock placed his other hand on Kirk's waist and drew him closer, then bent his head down so that his breath ghosted over Kirk's face. "I can sense…impressions, only vaguely, of your emotions."

"So can you sense that I really, really want to jump you right now?"

Spock brushed their lips together gently, sending a shiver down Kirk's spine. "I sense that our shift begins in five-point-two hours."

"But I'm wide awake," Kirk protested. To demonstrate, he pressed his erection against Spock's hip. Spock's eyebrow shot up and he kissed Kirk again, more fiercely this time.

Kirk responded with ardor, groaning as their tongues met and wantonly grinding against Spock's hip. He slipped his hands under Spock's shirt and ran his fingers up and down Spock's spine, then along his sides where his heart thrummed under Kirk's fingertips. Spock's skin was hot under his touch; Kirk craved it, was unable to get close enough. He kissed along Spock's jaw, nipped at his earlobe and murmured, "You want to move somewhere more comfortable?"

Spock's hands stilled on his back. Waiting for the inevitable rejection, Kirk ran his tongue up the edge of Spock's ear and flicked it against the tip. He felt a tiny shudder pass through Spock's body as he replied, "You are human, and therefore require rest."

"I'm fine," Kirk insisted.

"However," Spock continued, his lips brushing against Kirk's neck, "if you require release first, that would be acceptable."

Kirk grinned; it wasn't the hottest way he'd ever been propositioned, but it was preferable to being kicked out. He kissed Spock hard, then made his way over to the bed, leaving a haphazard trail of clothing along the way. He flopped down on the bed in just his underwear, propped his head up on one elbow and aimed his most seductive smile at Spock, but fell apart laughing when he saw that Spock was picking up and folding his clothes.

Spock lifted his eyebrow at Kirk, and neatly placed his clothes upon a chair before removing first his shoes and socks, then his blue shirt. 

When he straightened up in his black undershirt and looked towards the bed, Kirk's laughter died instantly. "Wow," he said. "You look really hot all in black, you know that?"

"Preference for colors is illogical," said Spock, though Kirk was sure he sounded pleased. His eyes raked Kirk's body so deliberately that he could almost feel it and had to fight not to squirm beneath the scrutiny. He saw Spock's eyebrow shoot up when his gaze landed on his underwear, which was noticeably tented, but he sprawled quite unselfconsciously.

Spock placed one knee on the edge of the bed and loomed over him. The black undershirt clung to his chest in the most alluring way; Kirk ran his hands over Spock's chest, up to his shoulders and down his back, pulling him down into a kiss.

Through much awkward wriggling, Kirk worked off the rest of Spock's clothing until they were both down to their underwear. Spock's skin against his was incredible; it was so hot, yet completely dry to the touch. He ran his hands up and down Spock's back, then down to his ass, pulling their hips together and groaning aloud.

Spock kissed him, fiercely possessive, while Kirk slipped his hands inside Spock's underwear to cup his ass. He squeezed hard, then wasted no time removing the underwear. Spock shifted obligingly to assist, and then all but tore off Kirk's, and finally they were entirely naked.

Atop him, Spock stilled, fixing Kirk's eyes with dark scrutiny. Kirk traced his fingers over Spock's ear, realizing distantly that his hand was trembling and his breathing was heavy. It was hard to believe this was the first time they'd been naked together; there was so much Kirk wanted to do that he was at a loss for where to begin. He wanted to map every inch of Spock's body with eyes, hands and mouth; he still had no idea what Vulcan genitals looked like, and planned to satisfy his curiosity as thoroughly as he knew how; he wanted to bury himself in the heat of the Vulcan's body and take Spock inside him in return.

He wrapped his legs around Spock's waist and tried to roll them over, but Spock pushed him back on the bed and began to grind their hips together. Kirk let out a strangled moan and arched his back; Spock seized the advantage and worked one hand between their bodies to grip their erections.

Pinned beneath Spock, there was little for Kirk to do. He twisted and writhed, but made no real effort to escape; he loved the feeling of being trapped by Spock's superior strength while his pleasure was wrenched from him by skillful hands. There would be time for his own explorations later, he reasoned, and allowed himself to be swept along by a current of desperate need.

His own hands floundered over Spock's back, his neck, occasionally tangling in his hair or touching his ears. Spock's hand was firm around him, his movements maintaining a steady rhythm, and all too soon Kirk was shuddering and groaning as his orgasm crashed through him.

Afterwards, he lay back on the bed, his head swimming and tremors still dancing over his body. He felt Spock's weight lift off him, and wearily opened one eye. Spock returned moments later with a damp cloth, sat on the edge of the bed and began cleansing him. Kirk laughed, but it felt pleasant so he allowed it. Spock caught his eye and raised his eyebrow, and Kirk grinned back at him.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he protested weakly even as he arched into Spock's touch.

Spock was not deterred, continuing his ministrations with meticulous care. His gaze flickered down, his expression one of intense concentration. Kirk realized only then that Spock probably had as much knowledge of human anatomy as he had of Vulcans'. He folded his arms behind his head and gently pressed his hips into Spock's touch, encouraging him.

After a while, Spock abandoned all pretense of cleansing and openly scrutinized him with intense eyes and tantalizingly gentle fingers. His cock twitched as Spock traced its length from base to tip, then took it in the palm of his hand and squeezed lightly. Half hard once again, Kirk made a frustrated sound and tried to push into the touch, but Spock tore his hand away and rose to his feet beside the bed. Kirk was disappointed to see he had recovered his underwear.

"It is late," said Spock flatly. "You should return to your quarters."

Kirk reached for Spock's hand and pulled him towards the bed, but Spock did not move. Kirk frowned. "Seriously, you're kicking me out?"

"I have no intention of employing force. Nonetheless, it is logical for you to sleep in your own quarters, where the temperature is more suited to your physiology."

Kirk had to concede it was hot in here, he supposed, though he thought that might have something to do with how aroused he was. "But don't I get to – " he gestured in Spock's direction.

"Are you dissatisfied?"

Kirk hauled himself to his feet and pulled Spock against him, burying his face in his shoulder and breathing deeply the scent of incense that seemed imbued in his skin. "Not one bit," he said. "Just insatiable, and can you blame me when you look at me like that?"

He lifted his head and pressed a firm kiss against Spock's lips. He intended it to be brief, but Spock took control and by the time they broke away, Kirk was fully hard once more. He scowled down at his traitorous body and gave Spock a hopeful look. "You sure you don't want to?"

"Not at this time."

"Okay," Kirk sighed. He dressed and left quickly, before he could lose control and start to beg.

*

Kirk managed only a scant few hours' sleep before the computer woke him. He rolled over with a groan and rubbed his eyes, mentally cursing the computer.

It took him a few minutes to recall why he had been up so late the previous night. When the memories came flooding back, he lay back on the bed and grinned at the ceiling.

On the way to breakfast, he passed numerous crewmembers who looked taken aback by his good cheer. Recalling what Gaila had said about the crew getting flustered around him, he greeted each of them with a hearty, "Good morning!" and tried to rein in his amusement as they floundered for a response.

His good mood came to a shuddering halt when he entered the mess. McCoy was sitting alone on the far side of the room, scowling into his cereal, while Spock was at their usual table.

Somehow, he'd managed to forget about his fight with McCoy. He supposed he ought to go over there; they'd fought before, after all, and it rarely took more than a good-natured jibe for them both to get over it. He was about to head over there when he recalled some of the things McCoy had said; _disgusting _, in particular, rang through his head.__

__He glanced over to where Spock was serenely cutting up a fruit of some description. Spock caught his eye and gave him a questioning look. Without further thought, Kirk selected his breakfast from the replicator and sat down with Spock._ _

__"You are troubled," Spock said in a low voice._ _

__"Good morning to you, too," Kirk grumbled. He waited a moment, and when Spock did not fill the silence, admitted, "I'm just pissed at Bones, that's all."_ _

__"Ah. I had surmised that his decision not to take breakfast at our customary table was an expression of antagonism aimed towards myself."_ _

__"Nah, he's just being a dick." Kirk took a swig of coffee, wincing at the temperature, before adding, "I know he's angry with me, but that's no reason to pull this high school crap."_ _

__"My understanding of human social interactions is limited, but suggests that the observation of petty politics in the establishment of seating arrangements is by no means restricted to the adolescents of the species."_ _

__"You're not wrong," Kirk sighed. "So, you think we're ready to leave orbit?"_ _

__"The geology and botany teams have confirmed that all required readings have been taken."_ _

__"Excellent. Let's try to keep this next 'routine' scientific mission drama-free, yeah?"_ _

__Spock conveyed his opinion of the likelihood of that with a raised eyebrow. Kirk laughed, and the conversation turned to their new quarantine regulations, meandering around other matters of ship's business. Kirk found himself silently thrilled by how easy Spock's company remained, without any of the morning-after awkwardness he might have expected._ _

__Most of the crew seemed to be giving them a wide berth, some even eyeing them nervously. Kirk had no intention of holding anyone to account for mutiny while under the influence of unknown space viruses, but knew better than to make that fact widely known. At any rate, it amused him to have people acting as though they were a little afraid of him._ _

__Apparently not everyone was thus affected, however, since Gaila looked quite unconcerned as she bounded over to them._ _

__"Hey," Kirk greeted her. She responded with a beaming smile, but, to his surprise, turned her attention to Spock. They started talking computers, and Kirk let his attention wander._ _

__McCoy was gone, he noticed bitterly. In his place, Uhura and Scotty were having what looked like an intense conversation. He tried to watch them surreptitiously while pretending to be focused on Gaila. Uhura looked angry, while Scotty's expression was calmer – perhaps placating or sympathetic. He thought back to what he'd seen yesterday and began to worry. He'd already noticed – and dammit, been amused by – the crew's realization and regret of their mutiny against him; why had it not occurred to him that there might be other, more personal, causes for regret as well?_ _

__Once Gaila had left, Spock followed his gaze – at some point he'd given up trying to be subtle – and gave him a questioning look._ _

__"I'm just worried," Kirk explained. "I hadn't thought about how embarrassing this whole thing must have been for everyone. I was lucky I only had you for an audience, but for everyone else?" He gave an exaggerated wince._ _

__"Indeed." Spock lowered his voice. "Have you given thought to which disciplinary measures you wish to take regarding the events of yesterday?"_ _

__"I can hardly punish the entire crew," Kirk laughed. "Especially since it was only my own neuroses that stopped me abandoning ship with everyone else."_ _

__"You mean to do nothing?"_ _

__Kirk shrugged. "Not much choice, really. But let's not tell them that right away, okay?"_ _

__"As you wish."_ _

__"Anyway," Kirk added with a smirk, "it was kind of nice to have the bridge to ourselves, wasn't it?"_ _

__He could have sworn his stomach actually did a little flip-flop when he saw the green tinge creep up to the tips of Spock's ears. He had the sudden urge to reach over and touch those ears, perhaps bite them a little, so he tried to distract himself by looking back over towards Scotty and Uhura._ _

__"I have been attempting not to eavesdrop," said Spock. "Nonetheless, if it assists you, I can assure you that Nyota's current grievance is unrelated to yesterday's events."_ _

__Kirk allowed himself to relax a little. "Thanks. All the same, I'm going to swing by Sickbay and have them check everyone out. See you on the bridge."_ _

__He came terrifyingly close to leaning across the table and giving Spock a kiss, but managed to cover the movement by gathering up his tray. He made a hasty exit._ _

____

*

Kirk had been hoping to speak to Chapel or M'Benga or, frankly, anyone but McCoy. Unfortunately, McCoy was in his office when Kirk arrived, and as the senior medical officer, left him with no choice.

"I need a word," Kirk said abruptly. He deliberately left the door open in the hope that McCoy would keep their conversation strictly professional.

"I'm busy," McCoy snapped.

Kirk heaved a sigh. "You're not too busy for this. I want the crew checked out, not just physically but, you know," he gestured towards his head. "If anything happened that's going to affect anyone's performance –"

"My team's already on it," McCoy cut in without looking up.

"Right. Well, keep me posted, then."

Kirk lingered for just a moment to see if McCoy was going to add anything else, then turned on his heel and left without a further word.

Kirk was fuming as he made his way to the bridge, but there was something automatically calming about the sight that greeted him there. The bridge gleamed, all white surfaces and clean lines. The rest of alpha shift had already arrived and were quietly logging in to their consoles and reading reports. Spock rose from the command chair the moment Kirk arrived, but remained beside it.

"You have the coordinates, Lieutenant?" Kirk addressed Sulu.

"Aye, Captain."

"Take us out, then."

Kirk leaned back in his seat and turned his attention to the viewscreen, where the curve of the planet beneath them was set against a dark sky speckled with stars. He had the fanciful thought that it might be fun to pick a random star and head towards it, just to see what was there.

"ETA six days at warp four, Captain," Sulu called over his shoulder.

"Six-point-three-two," Spock corrected.

Kirk saw Sulu and Chekov exchange an amused look, and glanced up at Spock, who was standing stiffly beside his chair watching the viewscreen. "Precise as ever, Mr. Spock," he said with a fond smile.

That look passed between Sulu and Chekov again, but neither said a word. Spock merely cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, and Kirk had to fight to keep from grinning. He was suddenly painfully aware that he was sitting in exactly the same spot where they had first had sex just one day previously. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to put the images from his mind, but the harder he tried, the more vivid they became.

"Is there a problem, Captain?" Spock asked in a low voice.

"Not at all," Kirk replied, doing his best to keep his tone light. With a wink, he added, "I love this chair."

"Your attachment to it has been noted," Spock replied evenly.

Kirk envied Spock's control; it was all he could do not to fabricate an excuse to get them off the bridge and alone somewhere together. He recalled his promise to himself not to jeopardize the integrity of his command, but it wasn't half difficult when he could feel the heat radiating off Spock's body.

"Is there a reason you're hovering over me?" Kirk asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I assure you that the artificial gravity is functioning correctly and I am not levitating."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "You know exactly what I mean."

"I am awaiting your instructions regarding the work we commenced last night."

Kirk almost choked on his own breath before he realized that Spock was referring to the quarantine regulations they'd been drafting. All the same, it sounded awfully like Spock was providing an excuse for them to leave the bridge together. Kirk was sorely tempted; they were at warp, after all; his presence wasn't really required here. He could hand the conn to Sulu and be taking Spock in the nearest briefing room in a matter of minutes…

"I think we already covered the important points," Kirk said, surprising even himself. "If you could finish editing it and send it to my terminal this evening?"

"Of course, Captain."

Spock gave him a stiff, formal nod and returned to his station. Kirk let out a deep breath and sat back in his chair. He had to admit he felt a little bit proud of himself, but he was also just a little bit afraid of where this sudden burst of maturity may have come from.

*

Kirk swiftly came to the conclusion that he now enjoyed spending days at warp. There was something relaxing about watching everyone fall into a routine, being able to perform his duties for the specified hours before unwinding.

Of course, he was also perfectly aware that he only enjoyed the monotony because he knew its duration to be finite; and furthermore, because his options for unwinding in the evenings – and mornings, and lunch breaks – had improved significantly. There was barely a minute of his day he did not spend with Spock; they worked together on the bridge, played chess or sparred most evenings, shared all their meals, and had frequent sex.

Now that the dam had broken, Spock was far more receptive than Kirk could ever have hoped. He even initiated most of their encounters; he stopped by Kirk's quarters first thing in the morning and pinned him to the bed while his hands worked between them; he would climb onto Kirk's lap after a chess game in a way delightfully reminiscent of their first time; sometimes he would even push Kirk up against a wall and in their frantic haste it would be all they could do to just get their flies undone.

For all their passion, though, Kirk couldn't help but feel that there was something missing. For one thing, despite the frequency of their couplings, every one ended the same way; it was always Spock's hand that brought him to completion, and most of the time they would both remain mostly clothed.

Kirk loved Spock's hands, he really did, but there was so much more he wanted. For one thing he'd yet to even _see_ Spock properly, let alone touch him. He was granted free access to let his hands roam over Spock's body, but any time he moved towards the groin, his hands would be unceremoniously batted away. And any time he tried to pull away enough to look, Spock would press him back against whichever surface they were using and drive him crazy with deft fingers and fierce kisses.

And once they had both climaxed, Spock would withdraw, right his clothing, and that would be the end of the encounter.

Kirk tried suggesting more; sometimes, when he was paying attention to one of Spock's ears in that way that made his eyes roll back in his head and his hands tremble, Kirk would press his advantage by whispering details of all the things he wanted to do. Spock would made strangled sounds that suggested he was receptive to the idea, but he never allowed them to progress beyond frantically whispered desires.

As more days passed in the same pattern, Kirk became resigned to it. He came undone at every simple touch, delighted in the way Spock was so possessively dominant when they were alone, yet passively subordinate on duty, and kept to himself the emptiness he felt when they parted ways.

The worst part was not being able to sound off to anyone. He didn't dare raise the issue with Spock directly, for fear of destroying the fragile balance it had taken them so much work to achieve, and McCoy wouldn't have appreciated being drawn into this even if they were on speaking terms.

In the end, the matter was taken out of his hands. One morning, on his way to the bridge, a flurry of green and red bounded up to him and bodily dragged him into an empty rec room.

"So?" Gaila prompted with a beaming smile, as though he was expected to somehow infer the question.

" _So_ , I'm on duty in twenty minutes. Do you have a reason for manhandling a superior officer?"

Gaila, damn her, just threw back her head and laughed. What was it about her that made his captainly demeanor sound like a joke even to himself?

"Oh, stop worrying," she said, perching on a table. "No one saw, and this will take less than twenty minutes."

Kirk scowled at her, but relented and took a seat on another table; he did really want to talk to her, after all, and it probably wasn't too unprofessional if she initiated it.

"So?" she prompted again. When he just gave her a questioning look, she rolled her eyes and explained, "You've cheered up. I'm guessing he caved?"

Kirk tried for a stern look. "Is that your commanding officer you're gossiping about?" 

"Oh, whatever. You can't give me half the story and hold out on the juicy part."

Further protest died on Kirk's lips, because he really did want to be able to talk about this out loud, even if he didn't expect she'd be able to help. "Fine," he relented, "but no blabbing to Uhura this time, all right?"

"You really think she doesn't already know?" Kirk gave her a stern look, and she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. I won't say a word. So, what's it like?"

"Kind of awesome, actually," Kirk replied with a wicked grin. "He gets all dominant and controlling – it's hot as hell."

"Yeah?" Her face lit up. "I'm so glad I was wrong about them being frigid. Hey, isn't sex with a telepath amazing?"

"What?"

"You know, the way they can tell what you want, how hard and fast and so on?" She gave a delighted shiver.

"Um," Kirk shifted uncomfortably. "I thought you said you'd never slept with a Vulcan?"

"I haven't, yet. I imagine it would be kind of like being with a Betazoid though, right? The telepathy, I mean?"

Kirk fought the urge to squirm. "Actually, I don't know. He doesn't do anything like that when we're… you know."

And damn, why did she have to put that image in his head? He remembered the intensity of his melds with the elder Spock, especially the way he'd been hopelessly aroused the second time – and perhaps he understood a little better now why the other Spock had been so unsurprised by that reaction. And then there was the one meld he'd shared with his own Spock, intense to a terrifying degree; so much so that it had led to their having sex right there in the captain's chair. What might it be like to be in each other's heads during the act itself? And why had Spock never suggested this?

Gaila looked confused, and sounded wary as she asked, "So what _does_ he do?"

Kirk almost said something irreverent, but finally sighed and said, "Honestly? Not a lot. He gets all assertive and everything, but it always ends up coming down to a hand job. And only his hands, at that; I just get brushed aside if I try to touch him."

"Huh." Gaila screwed up her face. "Well, that sucks."

"Not really," Kirk hurriedly assured her. "I mean, he does have awesome hands. And they're really sensitive too, so he gets off just on touching me, which is kind of cool."

"I guess," she allowed with a shrug. "But still, just the one thing, all the time?"

"Yeah. I guess he just really likes the hand thing?"

"Maybe. Or he's too shy for anything else."

"Hardly," Kirk laughed. "Believe me, you should see the way he takes control – he's anything but shy."

Gaila threw her head back and gave a heartfelt sigh. "Sometimes humans can be so dumb," she lamented. "Especially men."

"Hey!"

"Well it's true! You think because he controls everything he's not nervous?"

"He's never seemed nervous," Kirk grumbled, unsure what he was missing.

"You're such a moron, Jim."

"That's, 'You're such a moron, _Captain_ ,'" he reminded her.

"Whatever. Here's a tip for you: the ones who insist on taking control, limiting what you can and can't touch? They're the shy ones. He's probably worried you'll freak out over his weird alien junk or something."

"So there is something weird about his…stuff?"

"How should I know? I never got close enough to find out. But it doesn't matter whether it is or not, just that he's worried about it."

"So what should I do about it?"

"I know some awesome guys down in engineering who are definitely not repressed," she suggested.

"Thanks, but I kind of want to stick with Spock."

"Really?" She looked unconvinced, and added, "Damned if I know, then. You know him better than I do."

"Thanks," Kirk sighed. "That's really helpful."

"You're welcome," she replied, either oblivious to the sarcasm or not caring. "Let me know how it turns out, okay?"

"Fine," Kirk grumbled. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then hurried off to her post, leaving him even more confused than he had been before.

*

The day passed slowly on the bridge; Kirk was anxious for his shift to end so that he could speak to Spock, and that only caused the minutes to crawl by.

They were only a few hours out from their destination when Uhura interrupted his tangled thoughts.

"Captain, I'm receiving a distress signal. A Vulcan ship, the _ShiKahr_ , has been attacked."

Kirk managed not to look over at Spock as he calmly ordered, "Transmit coordinates to Navigation."

Chekov immediately began to calculate the course, and moments later reported, "Course laid in, Keptin."

"Ahead Mr. Sulu, maximum warp."

"Aye, Captain."

Only as Sulu finished altering their course did Kirk allow his gaze to stray over to the right, where Spock sat even more rigidly than usual. Kirk gave him a grim smile and gestured with his head towards the turbolift. He paused to order Uhura to transfer the distress call to his quarters and hand Sulu the conn, then followed Spock off the bridge.

In the privacy of the turbolift, Kirk allowed his veneer of calm to relax just enough to ask Spock, "You okay with this mission? You're not…" He left the words _emotionally compromised_ unspoken.

Spock did not pretend to misunderstand, but was quick to assure him, "I am perfectly functional. Although under the current circumstances, an attack on a Vulcan ship is…"

"A really fucking low blow?" Kirk suggested.

"Troubling."

The turbolift doors opened, and Spock fell into step beside him. Spock's posture was ramrod straight, his face a blank mask, but he walked closer than usual to Kirk's side. The moment they were alone in Kirk's quarters, Spock's hand reached for his, touching their fingers together.

"Do you know anything about the ship?" Kirk asked, fighting to keep his tone professional.

Spock hesitated, then broke their contact and guided Kirk towards the desk. Sat across from one another, it was easier to maintain the distance that duty required, but Kirk couldn't help but feel bereft of the touch.

"The _ShiKahr_ was a civilian transport vessel," Spock said at last.

"Was?"

"The situation at the colony is such that any available ships are being put to use wherever required."

"So it's not necessarily a civilian ship."

"The probability is approximately fifty-one-point-four percent."

"Approximately?" Kirk gave him a fond smile, and he responded with his customary raised eyebrow.

"I can confirm the ship's last known assignment," Spock suggested, indicating Kirk's computer terminal.

"Of course." Kirk turned the screen to face Spock and sat back, watching while his hands danced over the controls. Spock had large hands, with long, graceful fingers. Kirk loved watching them, and when he did, his thoughts invariably turned to how they felt on him, or the delightful shudders he could elicit by taking those long fingers into his mouth.

"You are preoccupied," Spock observed, without taking his eyes off the computer.

Kirk gave a wry smile and reluctantly tore his gaze away. "Can you blame me?" he grumbled. "You have amazing hands."

Spock went very still, staring at his own hands as though they had wronged him somehow. Kirk was about to apologize for whatever social faux pas he had just committed when he spotted the green tinge creeping up Spock's neck.

In the many hours he had spent fantasizing about Spock over recent months, Kirk had never guessed just how exciting that blush would turn out to be. Perhaps it was the exotic green blood that thrilled him, or perhaps it was just the sign that he had broken through Spock's emotional control; either way, he was mesmerized by every flush that crept over that beautiful pale skin.

Now he thought of it, he supposed it unlikely that Spock had ever had much in the way of compliments. That was a saddening thought, because Kirk was sure he was far from alone in his fascination with his first officer. Perhaps, he mused, there was something to Gaila's theory after all.

"Captain, can we focus?" said Spock, his voice uncharacteristically tight.

Realizing that he was staring, Kirk switched his attention to the computer. He couldn't read it from this angle, but at least it reminded him he was on duty. "Sorry," he said. "You're just really distracting."

Spock frowned at that, but all he said was, "The last logged flight path of the _ShiKahr_ was to the planet Betazed. The orders came from the Vulcan government, but the mission is classified."

"What do they want with the Betazoids?"

"Insufficient data."

"Okay," Kirk sighed. "So we have no idea _why_ someone would try to attack the ship. Why don't we start with _who_ , instead?"

"Unknown. The distress call does not specify, and the flight path as logged does not cross any hostile territory."

"Great. Spock, we can't just charge in there, guns blazing, without some idea of what we're dealing with."

For some reason, that earned him a raised eyebrow. Spock said nothing, though, so Kirk frowned and prompted, "You disagree?"

"Negative. I am merely surprised to hear you express such an opinion."

Kirk gave him a good-natured scowl and raised Uhura on the comm. "Lieutenant, any word from the _ShiKahr_?"

" _Nothing, Captain_ ," came the response. " _They're not responding on any channel_."

Kirk's heart sank. "All right, then. Keep trying, and keep me posted. Kirk out." Disengaging the comm, he added to Spock, "Guns blazing it is, then."

They exchanged a concerned look. Kirk reached out a hand, and Spock touched it with a brief Vulcan kiss. The spark his touch ignited under Kirk's skin was enough to shatter what remained of his resolve; he leaned over the table and kissed Spock the human way.

Pulling away just a fraction, he murmured, "I'm going to ravish you when this is done."

Spock's eyebrow shot up. "Indeed?"

*

It was an agonizing four hours at maximum warp to the last known location of the _ShiKahr_. Uhura kept trying to hail them, but received no response. Spock remained glued to the scanners the entire time, but the closer they got and heard nothing, the bleaker the outcome looked.

Shortly before they were due to drop out of warp, Sulu turned around and said, somewhat warily, "Captain… we have been duped by distress calls before."

"Twice," Chekov added. "And another time if you count…" He trailed off and turned back to his station.

Spock looked up, his face blank, and caught Kirk's eye. Though he gave no outward sign of it, Kirk knew how he felt, since he shared the ambivalence. Sulu and Chekov were right, of course; they had been led into traps by distress calls before. Nonetheless, he still wasn't going to be the sort of captain who ignored them.

"Understood, gentlemen," he said firmly. "Proceed, shields up and red alert."

Kirk hated going to red alert. Naturally, it was important to alert the entire crew to the situation and have them report to their posts. All the same, he'd always found it annoying that just when the most concentration was required, there was a distracting siren and flashing red lights.

"Dropping out of warp in three minutes, sir," Sulu called over.

Kirk gripped the arms of his chair. He had nightmarish visions of a viewscreen filled with the debris of ships, but he forced himself to keep watching.

"Uhura," Kirk called over his shoulder. "Have Mr. Scott and Doctor McCoy report to the transporter room and prepare to receive any survivors."

Moments later, the streaks of light outside shrank to pinpricks of starlight. Almost immediately, Spock announced, "Sensors report one ship. It appears to be disabled; I see minimal energy readings."

"Any life signs?"

"Scanning now."

Kirk leaped up from his chair and went to stand by Spock's shoulder. The eyes of the rest of the bridge were on them, so he kept a respectable distance, but shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited anxiously for news.

After a seemingly interminable wait, Spock stood up straight and reported, "No life signs."

Kirk laid a hand on Spock's arm and allowed himself one brief moment of regret. Then he caught Spock's eye and, with a grim smile, headed back to his chair.

"Mr. Sulu, bring us alongside the _ShiKahr_. We'll want to send a team over, determine what –"

"Captain," Spock interrupted. "I am picking up an unusual energy reading."

"From the _ShiKahr_?"

"Negative. Its origin is two nanoparsecs off the starboard bow."

"Theories, Mr. Spock?"

"Insufficient data."

"How about your best guess, then?"

"Vulcans do not guess, Captain."

"Try," Kirk snapped.

Spock rose slowly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "The origin has the highest probability of being a starship under some form of cloaking device."

"Maintain shields," Kirk ordered to Chekov. "Weapons on standby."

Kirk allowed his hand to linger on Spock's arm in silent apology for his tone, before breaking contact and returning to his chair.

They had only a momentary wait before Spock's guess was confirmed; a region of black space seemed to shimmer and flicker, and then, out of nowhere, there appeared a Romulan Bird of Prey.

"Hailing frequencies open, Captain," Uhura announced, pre-empting his order.

Kirk nodded his acknowledgement and assumed his most commanding tone as he announced, "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_. Please identify yourselves."

When the image appeared on the viewscreen, Kirk's first thought was that they had reached the _ShiKahr_ , because the commander appeared Vulcan. Then her mouth curved into a smile, and Kirk knew her to be the Romulan commander.

"Greetings, Captain," she said almost genially. "I am Commander Charvon."

"Did you attack the Federation vessel _ShiKahr_?"

"Indeed," she replied with a minute shrug. "They did not have what we require, but your starships are so easy to lure. Perhaps you will be of greater assistance."

Kirk forced himself to ignore the goading in her tone and kept his voice steady as he demanded, "What have you done with the Vulcan crew of the _ShiKahr_?"

"Oh, they're dead," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Too uncooperative."

"You are aware that this will be construed as an act of war against the Federation?"

The Romulan commander gave a bitter laugh. "Are we not past such formalities? Has the Federation not been spoiling for war by making the Empire a scapegoat for the natural disaster that destroyed one of your planets?"

Kirk was overcome by boiling rage, but he forced it down and assured her, "The Federation does not hold Romulus to account for the destruction of Vulcan. The act was carried out by a lone Romulan ship whose captain distanced himself from the Empire."

"As you say," Commander Charvon said in a dismissive tone. Kirk saw that her attention had drifted to his right, where Spock was monitoring the scanners. "You have a Vulcan crewmember."

Spock stood up and turned to face her, his expression blank and his hands clasped behind his back.

"This is my first officer, Commander Spock," Kirk introduced him.

Charvon looked him up and down. Her gaze could only be described as lascivious, and it caused Kirk's stomach to tie in knots.

"Is this the only Vulcan in your crew?" she asked.

"He is," Kirk responded warily, not really wanting to give her the information but knowing lying was futile when they could configure their scanners for Vulcan life signs and confirm the fact for themselves.

"I propose a deal; your Vulcan, for your ship and the lives of yourself and your crew."

"What do you want with Commander Spock?"

Her smirk suggested one answer, but all she said was, "Vulcans are most accomplished scientists. We have much to… learn from them."

"Denied. I do not barter for my crew."

"Very well," she sighed. "I am sorry that you have made this choice."

She made a gesture with one hand to someone out of sight, and the transmission cut off. Immediately, Chekov exclaimed, "Keptin, they are locking weapons on us."

"Return fire. Aim only for their weapons; I just want them disabled."

"Aye, Keptin."

Moments later, an impact rocked the ship and Kirk was thrown violently against the side of his chair.

"Shields at eighty-five percent," Sulu reported.

Light flashed across the viewscreen as the _Enterprise_ returned fire. Kirk watched the photon torpedo impact on the enemy ship; the greatest flaw in the design of the Bird of Prey was that it had only a single torpedo launcher. If only they could take that out, perhaps he would be able to ascertain what they wanted with the Vulcans.

"Their weapons system is damaged but remains operable," Spock reported.

A second impact wracked the bridge, causing the lights to flicker. Sparks darted out of the central console, and Sulu was flung backwards. Kirk leapt up to catch him; Sulu grasped at him to steady himself, but lost his footing and fell to the floor, taking a chunk of Kirk's sleeve with him.

Kirk went instantly to his side, but Sulu brushed him off, insisting, "I'm fine, sir."

Chekov was watching Sulu desperately, but snapped back to attention the moment Kirk caught his eye, announcing, "Second hit on target, Keptin. Weapons systems disabled."

"Very good." Kirk returned to his chair and called over to Uhura, "Get the Romulan commander on screen again."

He faced the screen, trying to look composed and ignoring the frantic hushed conversation between Sulu and Chekov in front of him.

"Captain," said Uhura, "I can't –"

At that moment, the ship disappeared from view. Uhura scowled and gestured towards the now-empty viewscreen. "No response," she finished.

Kirk turned to Spock. "Cloaked?"

"Negative. There are warp signatures."

"They ran away?"

"So it would appear."

Kirk slumped back in his chair, confused. If what they wanted was information – and apparently something specific to the Vulcans – why would they lie in wait for a Federation ship only a turn tail and run?

"This doesn't make any sense," Kirk mused aloud.

"Unless they've just gone for backup," Sulu suggested.

Kirk stared at the empty space in front of them for a moment, then came to his decision. "I'm ordering a pursuit. Uhura, notify Starfleet Command that a Romulan vessel has committed an act of war against the Federation. Spock, can you track them?"

Spock worked the scanners' controls a minute longer, then shook his head. "Negative. They cloaked before engaging their warp drive."

"I thought you said you could detect the warp signature?"

"I can deduce a heading of zero-seven-point-five, with an error margin of one-point-two. Within the solid angle defined by that error, there are two-point-one billion stellar systems. Would you have us search each of them in turn?"

"Two _billion_?" Kirk echoed.

"Two-point-one."

"You're the science officer," Kirk snapped in frustration. "You have to be able to do better than that."

"It is a matter of statistics –"

"Try some intuition," Kirk cut in. "Which of those two billion – two-point-one billion, my apologies – is the most likely?"

Spock considered this for a moment. "The commander's stated motives would suggest the Vulcan colony as the most likely target. Lieutenant Sulu's suggestion would imply somewhere within the Romulan Empire. The vessel's trajectory suggests neither destination."

"That's not very helpful."

Spock lifted one eyebrow. "Nonetheless."

"Keep trying," Kirk insisted. "We have to be able to narrow it down."

Spock returned to the scanners, and Kirk turned his attention to Sulu. "Are you injured, Lieutenant?"

"No, Captain."

Sulu's voice had perhaps a little too much forced lightness, but Kirk couldn't afford to lose his best helmsman at a crucial moment unless it was absolutely necessary. He was about to call McCoy to the bridge to be sure when Spock interrupted his train of thought.

"Captain, I am picking up life signs from the _ShiKahr_."

"What?"

"They are faint, but definite."

"How many?"

There was a pause while Spock examined the scanners more closely. All eyes were on him as he slowly turned to face Kirk. "Two," he confirmed. "Both Vulcan."

Kirk grinned in relief. "That's great news," he said, intensely relieved that there was at least one aspect of their mission that they hadn't completely failed. "Uhura, alert transporter room to prepare to beam aboard both survivors, and have a medical team standing by."

While Uhura relayed the information to Scotty in the transporter room, Kirk gestured for Spock to follow him.

One the turbolift doors had closed behind them, Kirk said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Spock was evidently surprised. He seemed to struggle for a response, and in the end settled for, "It would be illogical to take offense at that which you must do in your capacity as my commanding officer."

Kirk shrugged. "All the same…"

"Your intuition is what makes you a more effective commanding officer than I was. It is not a strength of mine, and as such it is quite correct that you should seek to correct me where the need arises."

Kirk gave him a grateful smile and reached for his hand. They indulged in a brief Vulcan kiss before the doors slid open and they made their way to the transporter room.

Scotty was already there, and McCoy and M'Benga were beside him. McCoy's expression darkened when he saw Kirk and Spock arrive together, but Kirk ignored him. 

"I've locked onto two life signs," Scotty reported, "but they're mighty faint."

"Understood," said Kirk. "Energize."

There was a painful wait of a few seconds while the transporter charged up. Two columns of shimmering light appeared, and seemed as though in slow motion to solidify into two separate figures.

The two doctors immediately descended on them with medical tricorders, and in the flurry of activity it took Kirk a while to register who the two Vulcans were. The one closest to him clicked into place first, and before he could think better of it he flung himself across the room exclaiming, "Spock!" and wrapped him in a firm embrace.

The elder Spock did not recoil from the touch, but the other Vulcan gave him a look of such consternation that he immediately retreated. It was then, to his horror, that Kirk recognized him; he took a step back and meekly acknowledged, "Ambassador Sarek, sir."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock Prime's mind melds should come with a health warning.

It took Kirk a minute to compose himself, during which time Sarek's gaze was a leaden weight upon him. He managed a weak smile and gestured between Sarek and Spock Senior. "Are you both -?"

"Quite well," Sarek assured him with an unmistakable frown at McCoy, who was still stubbornly taking readings.

"We were en route to Betazed," the elder Spock explained. "The ship's crew was taken by the Romulan vessel. We were in the guest quarters at the time, and chose to moderate our life signs to avoid detection so that we might warn any vessels that responded to the distress call."

"You can moderate your life signs?" Kirk said, turning to his own Spock, who nodded in confirmation.

"Why did you not attempt to retrieve your crew?" his Spock pressed.

Sarek and the elder Spock exchanged a glance, and Sarek replied, "This is a matter best discussed in private."

"Understood." Kirk turned to McCoy. "Do you want them to report to Sickbay first?"

McCoy avoided looking at him as he answered, "No need. They're both in perfect health."

Relieved, Kirk smiled at the elder Spock. He wasn't paying attention, though; he seemed fixated on the torn fragment of Kirk's sleeve, and his lips were twitching into a distinct smile.

It was a disturbing sight, even on a very different and much older Spock, so Kirk looked away hurriedly. "Mr. Scott, with us," he said, and he led them out of the transporter room to the nearest briefing room.

As they passed through the corridors, Kirk couldn't help but notice the expression of rapt attention on the elder Spock's face, and the way he traced his fingers along the walls. Kirk held back and fell into step beside him. "Anything like you remember?" he asked.

Spock withdrew his hand, and his expression clouded over. "Like," he confirmed. "And yet unlike."

Kirk was curious; were there physical differences between the ships, or did he refer to the differences in the captain and crew? He chose not to press the matter, though, simply laying a hand on Spock's shoulder and gesturing him towards the briefing room.

Once Kirk was seated, the younger Spock took the seat to his right; Kirk realized only then that his gaze was fixed on his counterpart, and was filled with suspicion. Smiling to himself, Kirk reached under the table and laid his hand over Spock's, out of sight. Spock started at the contact, but did not pull away.

He waited until the others were seated, then addressed Sarek. "What is it you wanted to warn us about?"

Sarek exchanged a wary glance with each version of his son before explaining, "The Romulans are targeting Vulcans."

"We've established that," said Kirk. "Any idea why?"

Sarek looked to the elder Spock, who replied, "They want the formula for red matter."

Kirk felt Spock's hand tense beneath his. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, now," Scotty addressed the elder Spock. "Ye'd be the only one as knows about that now, right?"

"Negative," the other Spock replied, looking to Kirk.

"Do they know who you are?" Kirk asked. "Or do they know the Vulcan Science Academy in this timeline is developing red matter too?"

Sarek looked surprised at Kirk's knowledge, but covered the reaction quickly. "Their attack suggests the latter," he said. "Ambassador Spock's identity has not been publicized."

Kirk thought about that for a moment, then asked, "And how many people know about the red matter at the VSA?"

The elder Spock replied, "Only those working on the project at the Academy, as well as Ambassador Sarek, yourselves and Doctor McCoy."

"And we didn't tell Starfleet, did we?" Kirk looked to his Spock for confirmation.

"We did not."

"Suggestions?" Kirk addressed the room at large.

"Sounds like a spy on the Vulcan colony," said Scotty with an apologetic glance at the ambassadors.

"I concur," said Sarek. "Are you able to deliver us to the colony?"

Kirk looked at Spock, who responded, "We can reach the colony in two weeks."

"Jim," the elder Spock interjected. "Our mission is of vital importance. If we can be transported instead to Betazed –"

"Impossible," said the younger Spock, narrowing his eyes at his counterpart. In a lower voice, he added, "Captain, it is most likely we are now engaged in a war. A diversion to Betazed would take six weeks, which we cannot afford."

"But we can afford two weeks?"

"The Vulcan colony lies only a week off course from the Romulan vessel's last known trajectory, so the time lost would be minimized. Betazed is in the opposite direction entirely."

"Understood." Kirk ran a hand through his hair as he thought the situation through. Eventually, he decided, "We need to know what the larger situation is with the Romulans. We'll report the situation to Starfleet Command and await orders. What was your business with Betazed?"

The elder Spock looked as though he were about to respond, but Sarek cut him off with, "We are not at liberty to divulge that information."

"Okay," Kirk sighed. "We'll get you set up in guest quarters and let you know when we have orders."

Kirk and Spock left the ambassadors in the hands of the quartermaster and retired to Kirk's quarters to submit a full report to Starfleet with an urgent request for orders. It ended up taking hours, as they took pains to convey the urgency of the situation without mentioning red matter directly. They gulped down dinner while they worked, and by the time they were finished, Kirk was absolutely exhausted. He let out a heartfelt groan and flopped onto his bed.

"How long will that take to get to Starfleet?" he asked.

"Six-point-two hours," Spock responded immediately. "Even assuming immediate turnaround, we cannot expect orders for at least twelve-point-four hours."

"That's a lot of time to waste."

"We have little choice, given that our two options lie in opposite directions."

"All the same, we shouldn't stay here," Kirk reasoned. "What if the Romulans were just going for backup and plan to come finish us off?"

"Your suggestion?"

Kirk sighed and made a snap decision. "Order a course for New Vulcan. It's as good a course as any, and we'll only have lost a day if we have to turn around."

"Very well," Spock acknowledged.

While Spock contacted the bridge to order the new course, Kirk tugged off his uniform and threw it over the side of the bed. Clad in just his underwear, he climbed beneath the covers and let out a heartfelt sigh; he really was exhausted.

"The new course has been entered," Spock confirmed a minute later. Then, seeing that Kirk was in bed, he raised his eyebrow.

Kirk grinned and held out an arm in invitation, and watched with undisguised interest as Spock undressed. Once he was down to his underwear, he climbed into bed beside Kirk, and Kirk ordered the lights off.

Kirk rolled onto his back and grinned up at the ceiling. "Must be weird for other-you, being back on this ship."

Spock tensed beside him, and said nothing.

"Don't tell me you're still jealous of him," Kirk sighed.

"Jealousy is illogical," Spock muttered, as though to himself.

"It sure is." Kirk sighed and rolled over, laying his head on Spock's chest and hooking one leg over his.

Spock went very still, and for a moment Kirk thought he meant to flip them over, the way he usually did, but when Kirk made no move to touch him, he relaxed. Kirk smiled to himself, counting this as quite a significant victory even if Spock wasn't doing anything more than allowing the contact.

They lay that way in silence for a while, and Kirk felt himself begin to drift off. Then, perhaps sensing Kirk's lethargy, Spock asked, "Do you require sexual congress this evening, Jim?"

"Nah, too tired," Kirk mumbled.

"Then I shall retire."

He made a move to extract himself from beneath Kirk's body, but Kirk restrained him with a hand on his waist. "Stay?" he asked.

Spock hesitated, no doubt pondering how illogical such a request was. They had never spent the night together before, though admittedly Kirk had not asked again since the first night. When no immediate response was forthcoming, Kirk hurriedly added, "I'll be good. I just like having you here."

It took a while, but eventually he felt the tension leave Spock's body as he relented. An arm snuck around him, arranging him more comfortably, and then held him close.

"Thanks," Kirk murmured. He burrowed himself closer, seeking more of the warmth of Spock's body as it seeped through him and lulled him to sleep.

*

Kirk woke up shivering. It took him a few moments to blink into full consciousness, and a moment longer for him to recall that the sleeping figure beside him was Spock.

His insane grin at that realization was hastily quashed when another shiver wracked his body. At some point in the night, Spock had rolled to the other side of the bed and wrapped all of the blankets around himself like a cocoon.

Kirk tugged the blankets free, rolling his eyes and mentally cursing the myth of romantic nights spent in your lover's arms. Spock's body was enticingly warm, though; Kirk tucked the blankets over himself and burrowed against Spock's back.

He had barely touched him when Spock jumped up to a seated position. Kirk pulled him back down, mumbling, "'S your fault I'm cold."

"I find that unlikely."

"You're a blanket hog."

"I am no such thing."

"Are too."

Through much wriggling, Kirk managed to work his way under Spock's arm, but Spock was making it difficult by wincing and pulling away anytime Kirk's frozen skin came into contact with him.

"Know a better way to warm me up?" Kirk suggested with a sly smile.

He was sure Spock would deny sighing, but that was definitely what it sounded like. The next thing Kirk knew, he was being pushed flat on his back and Spock was taking his morning erection in hand.

A protest began to form in Kirk's throat – he really wanted to try something different this time – but then Spock squeezed in just the right way while his teeth grazed over Kirk's collarbone, and the only sound he could make was a guttural moan.

He tried to insinuate his hands between them, but Spock deftly caught both his wrists in his free hand and pinned them over his head.

And okay, Kirk thought, he could deal with this. He found being held down by Spock intensely erotic, reminiscent of that scene on the bridge (the fantasy recollection he had of it, anyway, if not the reality). Spock seemed to know exactly how hard to grip him and how fast to move – but then he ought to, given the amount of practice he'd had at this.

Kirk let himself go, arching into Spock's touch and throwing his head back to expose his neck. Spock's mouth moved up his neck, along his jaw, and he felt teeth tug at his earlobe. All the while, Spock's hand kept up an unfaltering rhythm, driving him relentlessly to the brink.

When he came, it was as though his orgasm was ripped from him; he convulsed helplessly as a wordless cry was torn from his throat, and then heat washed over him and he slumped back on the bed, gasping for breath.

Spock was less demonstrative, unless you knew what to look for; the hitch of his breath always followed just seconds after Kirk's release, accompanied by a minute shiver. Then he would close his eyes and hold still for a moment.

And then he was gone, in a flurry so fast that Kirk barely even caught a glimpse of him, and Kirk was left clutching at empty air and groaning in frustration.

When Spock returned from the bathroom, he looked pristine and, as always, was wearing his underwear. Kirk tried to clamp down on his disappointment, but couldn't help letting out a sigh as Spock sat on the edge of the bed and began to wipe him down with a damp cloth.

Spock was always meticulous about this. Unnecessarily so, in Kirk's opinion. Still, it was difficult to resist the intensity of Spock's concentration; there was something so intoxicating about being the subject of it. Spock's touch was gentle and inquisitive, and Kirk found himself pressing into it, his cock already beginning to twitch in renewed interest. Predictably, though, at that first sign that his touch was having the inevitable effect, Spock withdrew.

"Dammit Spock, are you trying to kill me?" Kirk snapped, surprising even himself.

Spock looked taken aback, and took a full minute to recover himself. His brow furrowed as he replied, "I find your question so illogical as to be unworthy of a response."

"Of course you do."

Kirk jumped up from the bed and began pacing. He was painfully aware of his own nudity, but his mind was in enough of a whirl that he was past caring.

"Have I caused offense?" Spock hedged.

The uncertainty in Spock's voice was enough to calm Kirk down. With a heavy sigh, he perched on the edge of the bed and gestured for Spock to join him. Spock hesitated, but eventually sat beside him, albeit an arm's length away.

Now that it came down to it, Kirk had no idea what he was supposed to say. He'd never tried to explain to someone that he was dissatisfied with their sex life before; it had always made more sense to look elsewhere if one person wasn't satisfying him. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to take that route this time, but there was a constant nagging thought in the back of his head that insisted this _could_ work, if only he persevered.

"Jim?" Spock prompted.

Kirk dropped his head into his hands with a sigh. "I don't know," he said. "It's just…" He straightened up and looked Spock in the eye. "Can I ask you something?"

"You may."

"When we… you know," Kirk gestured towards the bed, "why do you never let me touch you?"

"Your question is illogical since there is extensive physical contact on both sides."

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

"Perhaps," Spock allowed. "You are saying that our… activities displease you."

"Hell no," Kirk shook his head with a rueful laugh. "Our _activities_ are awesome. They're just… a bit one-sided?"

"That is a logical result of our differing physiologies."

It took a moment for Kirk to understand what he meant; he briefly wondered if there was some massive detail about Vulcan physiology that he'd missed, but then he realized that Spock was just talking about his hands. And yes, it was true that his hands were less sensitive than Spock's and therefore logical that it was Spock who took care of things. That wasn't the problem, though, and now it came down to it he wasn't sure he really felt like explaining, but he wasn't about to chicken out now. He took a deep breath.

"That's not the point. Yeah, I wouldn't enjoy touching you in quite the same way you like touching me, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. And there's other stuff too… I guess I just think a bit of variety would be more fun, you know?"

Spock looked more uncomfortable than Kirk had ever seen him. Kirk immediately regretted bringing the matter up at all; he was about to retract the statement and insist everything was fine when Spock said, in an eerily calm voice, "The purpose of sexual congress is to achieve orgasm, is it not?"

"Well… ultimately, I guess."

"In any of our encounters, have you failed to achieve this goal?"

Kirk gave a nervous laugh. "Um, no. As you well know."

"Then I do not understand the problem."

Kirk sighed. "It's just that… well, yeah, we always come, but there are other ways of doing it, you know?"

"If one method produces the desired results, then it is illogical to alter it."

"Okay." Kirk sat down and ran a hand through his hair, giving himself time to quash his embarrassment. "The thing is, the orgasm might be the… climax, for want of a better word, but it's not the entire point. The fun part is actually… well, the method, as you put it. You understand?"

"Not entirely."

Kirk allowed his gaze to rake over Spock's body. Clad only in his underwear, his lean frame was perhaps the most enticing thing Kirk had ever seen; he took in the pale skin with the exotic tinge of green, the dusting of hair that led beneath his waistband. Kirk swallowed and tentatively reached out to caress Spock's collarbone.

"There are so many things I want to do to you – with you," Kirk murmured. "And not all of them have anything to do with getting one of us off."

Spock tensed, but allowed the touch and even leaned into it. Kirk shifted himself closer and took Spock's hand in his. Spock took over, brushing their fingers together in the way he liked, and for a moment Kirk just watched the movements of their joined hands.

When Spock pulled away, he looked less uncomfortable, and when he spoke it was with the same tone he used to ask questions on the bridge.

"May I request that you specify what it is you require, so that I may determine whether I am able to comply?"

Kirk took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at a point on the opposite wall. He could understand that Spock needed to reduce this to a logical problem, but it wasn't as simple as that. He was at a loss for how to explain that, though; in the end, he settled for, "It's not like there's a list of boxes you have to tick. I think we're supposed to work out between us what we like and what we don't like."

"Is that not what we have been doing?"

"We've only tried the one thing. And we've established that we like that, so all I'm saying is let's try out some of the other stuff too, see how that goes. And if it turns out you only like the one thing, then fair enough, I can deal with that."

"You are not willing to accept this conclusion without further experimentation?"

That wasn't fair, Kirk thought. Of course he was _willing_ to do whatever Spock wanted; any other answer would make him look like a jerk. "Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked. "Any reason you don't want to try anything else?"

" _Kai'idth_. What is, is."

Kirk groaned and fell back against the bed. "You always have to talk in riddles?"

"I apologize that our association has been so unsatisfactory for you."

Before Spock could continue, Kirk pulled him down to lie flat on the bed. He buried his face against Spock's neck and said, firmly, "Dammit, Spock, I'm not losing you over something as dumb as sex again. I just wish you'd tell me what's going on."

Spock shifted them into a more comfortable position and kissed him. Kirk recognized it as a tactic to shut him up, but responded anyway; after all, it was almost impossible not to when Spock knew exactly how to make him feel as though his bones were made of butter.

*

When the order came from Starfleet, it was to head to the Vulcan colony. Kirk breathed a sigh of relief that his gamble had not backfired, and left the bridge in Sulu's hands.

He found the elder Spock in his guest quarters. Thankfully, he was alone; Kirk didn't think he was ready to handle Sarek yet.

"May I assist you, Captain?" Spock asked.

"Just came to see how you're doing," Kirk admitted with a shrug.

Spock's eyes crinkled in a smile, and he gestured Kirk inside. "I understand we are bound for the colony."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I did tell them you were on an urgent mission, though, so hopefully they'll find another ship to get you to Betazed."

Spock's face clouded over. He sat down, shaking his head, and gestured for Kirk to take the other seat. Once Kirk was seated, he said, "With your permission, I would like to send a message to the Betazoid ambassador."

"Of course." Kirk indicated the computer. "I'll show you how to –" He cut himself off with a wry smile. "I'm guessing you know how the computer systems work, right?"

"There are some differences, but essentially, yes."

"This must be really strange," Kirk mused aloud. "Back on your old ship, even if it is a bit different, with another you at your old post."

Spock looked distant, as though he were recalling that other life, so Kirk allowed the silence to stretch between them. He tried to imagine what it would be like if their positions were reversed, but came up completely blank.

Kirk was so lost in thought that it took him by surprise when Spock finally said, "It is true that I had not thought to find myself back on this ship, much less in the role of a helpless, elderly ambassador."

Kirk gave him a sympathetic smile and tried to change the subject. "You play chess?"

"Indeed, I was victorious in sixty-eight percent of my games against my captain."

"Awesome," Kirk grinned. "I'll be right back."

He darted off to his own quarters, and returned with a chess set. While he was setting it up, Spock asked, "Are you experiencing further difficulties with the effects of the meld?"

Kirk paused and rolled a bishop between his thumb and forefinger. "Actually, no, not so much lately."

"I am glad."

"That is, I don't have so many random flashbacks any more. I still know stuff I shouldn't."

"Such as?"

"I know you're lying about how often you beat your Jim at chess."

Spock looked taken aback, but conceded, "I may, perhaps, have exaggerated slightly."

"I knew it," Kirk grinned, then admitted, "Actually, I got no such thing from the meld; I just made it up."

Spock's eyebrow shot up. "You have not changed," he remarked dryly.

Kirk laughed and allowed Spock to take white. The game that followed was fiercely competitive; it seemed Spock's mind had not slowed at all with age, and he had an annoying knack for pre-empting Kirk's strategies, even the completely haphazard ones.

Kirk was enjoying himself so much that he didn't even notice the door buzzer. He saw the expression of amusement and alarm that crossed Spock's face, though, and followed his gaze over to the doorway.

Standing in the doorway was the younger Spock, and he looked positively murderous.

"Hey, Spock," Kirk greeted him, pretending he hadn't noticed the tension. "You're absolutely thrashing me at chess here. Want to give me a hand?"

The younger Spock's eyes drifted over the chessboard, and his posture stiffened further. His voice was ice-cold as he said, "Your presence is required for a matter of ship's business, Captain."

"Be right there." Kirk gave the older Spock an apologetic smile. "We'll have to pick this up later."

The older Spock nodded his agreement, but kept a wary eye on his younger self. Kirk had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as he followed his Spock out of the door and down the corridor.

He was led into an empty briefing room, and was about to ask whether there really was any pressing ship's business when he was suddenly and violently pushed back against the wall.

His protest died on his lips as Spock covered them with his own. There was nothing gentle about the kiss; it was bruising, uncomfortable even, yet it left Kirk breathless and hopelessly aroused.

Spock broke the kiss suddenly and leapt back, putting several feet between them. Kirk gave a choked laugh and remarked, "I take it you're not thrilled by our passengers."

Spock turned away, and Kirk could almost see the amount of strength it took him to reign in his control. It was painful to watch, but he still couldn't help finding the situation intolerably amusing. "Look," he said when Spock did not speak, "I'm the captain. Making nice with ambassadors is my job. And anyway, he's _you_. I was playing chess with _you_."

Keeping his back to Kirk, Spock said, "I am perturbed by your persistence in treating us as the same person."

"You are the same person!" Kirk began to protest. Then he cut himself off and said, "Wait. You're not worried I'm going to sleep with him or something, are you?"

"You have already engaged in inappropriate contact with him."

For a moment, Kirk was terrified – how did this Spock know that he'd accidentally Vulcan-kissed the other one, without knowing what it meant? Then he realized, "The mind meld, you mean?"

"He lacks control."

_Uh huh, and you're the very model of Vulcan control_ , Kirk thought, but rather than fan the flames, he just said, "We've been over this. He's only here for two weeks, and it's our job to make sure he's made welcome."

Spock whirled around to face him then, and his expression was dangerously dark. "You will cease spending time alone with him."

"Mr. Spock." Kirk assumed his most commanding tone. "Aren't you forgetting who's the commanding officer here?"

Spock's hands clenched into fists, and for an instant Kirk was sure he meant to strike him. Then, as quickly as it had surfaced, the moment passed, and Spock's face was a mask of neutrality once more.

"Of course, Captain," he said.

Kirk exhaled slowly. "Okay. So was there really any ship's business?"

"Affirmative."

While Spock called up transmissions from Starfleet, Kirk watched in disbelief. Spock looked the same as he ever did; calm, composed and focused on his task. It was hard to believe that mere minutes earlier, he had been threatening a superior officer. Kirk had no idea what to make of it.

The messages from Starfleet turned out to be relatively routine, and neither justified Spock's insistence on his immediate attention, but he chose not to say so. The first message confirmed their report on the Romulan vessel they had engaged and informed them that another ship had been assigned to track it; the second was a denial of their request for assistance in transporting the ambassadors to Betazed unless they could provide a more concrete reason for the request.

"Well, that'll be easy," Kirk sighed. "Any idea why they're being so tight-lipped about what they were doing?"

Spock stared at the screen a little longer. "Forgive me, Jim, but Vulcans are secretive about many aspects of our culture. Perhaps they would be more forthcoming if I made the inquiry alone?"

"Sure," Kirk agreed. "Whatever works."

"Very well, then I shall request an audience with my father."

Spock made for the door, but Kirk stopped him with a hand on his arm. "One sec. You're not going to go and start a fight with… yourself, are you?"

"That would be illogical."

With a sigh, Kirk let him go, but once the door had closed behind him, he said to the empty room, "That's what I'm worried about."

*

With Spock occupied elsewhere and McCoy still pretending he didn't exist outside of duty, Kirk found himself at a loss once his shift had finished.

He was idly wandering the corridors when he heard Gaila's distinctive laugh from one of the rec rooms. He glanced inside and found her with Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov and a couple of engineers, playing poker.

"Hey, Jim," Gaila called to him.

Before Kirk could protest that he was just passing by, she was getting everyone to shift around the table and make room for him. At that point, he figured it would be rude to decline, and it wasn't as though he had anything better to do, so he sat down between Scotty and Sulu and let Chekov deal him in.

"You sharing?" Kirk asked, indicating the blue bottle beside Chekov.

Chekov's eyes suddenly went wide in panic. "Is not mine," he blurted. He went bright red and hurriedly added, "Er, I mean –"

"Whoa," Kirk held up a hand. "Whatever you do, don't tell me what it is or who it belongs to, understood?"

It was quite comical to watch how Chekov's face cleared as understanding dawned. He shot Kirk a beaming grin and eagerly poured him a glass of the Romulan ale.

"Still playing for coffee stirrers, I see," Kirk observed, picking up one from Scotty's pile.

"Take some of Gaila's," Uhura suggested. "She's cheating anyway."

"Am not!" Gaila glared at Uhura and drew her impressive stack of coffee stirrers closer to her.

"You're using your pheromones," Uhura pointed out, looking distinctly unimpressed.

"Hey, it's not my fault if people find me instinctively trustworthy." Gaila winked at the engineers, who both became suddenly occupied by studying their cards.

"Have you been harassing my crew?" Kirk tried to look stern, but it was difficult when Chekov was giggling.

"It's not harassment," Gaila shot back. "It's morale-boosting."

Kirk couldn't help but laugh; her expression of mock indignation was priceless. The rest of the table, as though taking their cue from him, joined in, and from there play proceeded in high spirits.

The joviality died so suddenly that Kirk instinctively turned around to see what the others were reacting to. There in the doorway stood Spock, his eyebrow elevated as he regarded the scene in front of him.

"Come to join us?" Kirk asked hopefully.

"Captain," he inclined his head in greeting. "Your presence is required."

"Of course." Kirk sighed and laid his cards down. "Looks like you guys are off the hook; a captain's never off duty. Here," he pushed his winnings over to Chekov, who had been suffering from Sulu's uncanny ability to tell when he was lying, "you look like you need this the most."

Chekov made an indignant sound, but accepted the stack of coffee stirrers nonetheless. Kirk got up and fell into step with Spock, waiting until they were out of earshot before asking, "Is this ship's business, or…?"

"I was successful in relaying to the ambassadors the importance of specifying their mission."

"Excellent. Are we allowed to tell Starfleet?"

"That would be unwise."

"What?" Kirk came to a halt, and Spock turned to face him. "The whole point of sending you over there was –"

"Jim," Spock interrupted. He cast a meaningful glance down the corridor. "Perhaps we may continue this discussion in a more suitable location?"

Kirk started to lead the way to his quarters, but then stopped and headed towards the guest quarters instead.

"Captain," said Spock in a warning tone, but Kirk ignored him.

He had intended to speak to the older Spock, reasoning that he would be more receptive. When he gained entrance to the ambassador's quarters, though, it was to find that he was with a stern-looking Sarek.

Kirk hesitated for just a moment, then assumed his most commanding tone and demanded, "Someone tell me what's going on."

Sarek frowned and looked to the younger Spock, who stood stoically by Kirk's side and said nothing.

"How do you expect us to help you if you won't tell me?" Kirk tried next.

"We do not require your assistance," said Sarek firmly.

"All right, then." Kirk turned to his Spock. "Do I have to make it an order?"

Spock met his gaze evenly. "You cannot order me to divulge that which is not relevant to the safety of the _Enterprise_ or Starfleet security."

"It could affect the safety of the _Enterprise_ ," the older Spock cut in. "If you prove to be affected."

"Affected?" Kirk grabbed at Spock's arm, heedless of their audience. "Spock, what's going on?"

"Captain," Spock stressed the title, and Kirk reluctantly let go of his arm. "I have determined that this is nothing pertinent to the running of this ship. I ask that you utilize your discretion and respect my judgment in this matter."

Taken aback, Kirk looked to the older Spock, but his expression was equally grave. Kirk looked between the three Vulcans, at an utter loss. What could be going on that they would want to keep not only from Starfleet, but also from him?

While three Vulcans sought to quell him with their most unyielding expressions, Kirk frantically wracked his brain. There had to be a logical reason for this, and therefore a logical way to deduce the truth.

There had to be something about Betazoids, he decided. That didn't really help, since he'd never had any direct contact with one. Suddenly, he recalled a conversation with Gaila; she'd had very close contact with one, if her opinion of telepathic sex was any indication.

And then, in a flash, he understood. "You need something you can only get from another telepathic race."

Sarek's eyes widened in surprise, but both Spocks looked more resigned than anything.

"Jim," said the older Spock, "your intervention is both unnecessary and unwise."

"Is it?"

"I have established contact with the Betazoid government. Any interference on your part is a matter of personal curiosity only, and is inappropriate."

Stunned by the rebuke, Kirk could think of nothing to say. He looked to his Spock, but saw only the same expression of firm denial. Without thinking, he brushed their hands together, the gesture so casual it would be entirely innocuous by human standards.

Spock went very still, his face utterly unreadable. Then, in a movement so sudden it made Kirk jump, he turned away. "I have experiments that require my attention," he declared, and then he was gone.

Kirk was left with the two ambassadors, one regarding him with outright distaste and the other with sadness. Realizing he was completely out of his depth, he beat a hasty retreat.

*

The poker game was still in full swing when Kirk returned, and they immediately made space for him and dealt him back into the game. In response to numerous questioning looks, he simply shrugged and sighed, "Vulcans."

Only Gaila laughed, though Uhura was obviously biting her lip to keep from smiling. Sulu and Chekov exchanged a glance, which caused Chekov to start laughing and Kirk to feel that he was obviously missing some inside joke.

"We were just talking about what you'd be like as a Vulcan," Gaila filled him in. The others looked mildly guilty, but said nothing.

"My attitude, combined with logic and brains and stuff?" Kirk exclaimed. "God, I'd drive myself crazy."

"And us," Gaila agreed.

"Nah, you'd all have mutinied by now."

The implicit permission for informality had the desired effect; even Uhura was openly smiling. "It could be worse," she mused. "You could be a Deltan."

"That would be awesome!" Kirk exclaimed. "Deltans would make the _best_ captains."

Uhura looked skeptical. "You realize you'd have to take an oath of celibacy to serve in Starfleet?"

Kirk made a face at that. "No wonder we don't see many of them."

"It's horrible double standards," Gaila added. "I mean, they didn't make _me_ make any such oath."

"You wouldn't last five minutes," Uhura scoffed.

A human woman might have found that offensive, but Gaila merely shrugged in agreement and turned back to Kirk. "I think you'd make a hot Vulcan."

Kirk gave her a beaming smile. "Thanks."

"It'd make you a lousy captain, though."

Kirk made a face at her, but couldn't argue; he was well aware that it was his illogical intuition that made him more suited for command than Spock was, whatever he lacked in other areas.

Chekov gave him a slightly nervous look and added, "But, it seems they are making good science officers, yes?"

"Well sure," Kirk shrugged. "Based on my sample of one, I'd say they're pretty awesome."

At Uhura's raised eyebrow, he wondered if he'd said too much, but Chekov just grinned and said, "Is good that you are no longer trying to kill each other."

Sulu gave Chekov a stern look, but relaxed when Kirk laughed. Scotty was less impressed, muttering, "I dunno, ye lure a guy onto your ship with the excitement of a homicidal command team…"

The laughter that erupted around the table made Kirk feel strangely warm. He had the sudden, fleeting thought of what it might be like to have everyone know about him and Spock; perhaps they would be completely cool with it, and then all the sneaking around could stop, and Kirk would be able to gush about how utterly, incredibly awesome his first officer was without feeling as though he was giving something away.

Another abrupt silence fell over the room. Kirk craned his neck over his shoulder, expecting to see Spock again, and his face fell when he saw McCoy in the doorway.

"Never mind," said McCoy with an irritable glance in Kirk's direction.

He went to leave, but Kirk jumped up and stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. "I have work to do," he said, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with McCoy. "Why don't you take my place? I'm onto a winner with this hand."

McCoy didn't immediately reply, so Kirk made the decision for him by heading for the door and calling, "Night, guys," over his shoulder.

Kirk was grinning as he strode down the corridor back to the officers' quarters. Being able to talk about Spock made him unreasonably happy, and he frightened more than one crewman with overenthusiastic greetings.

He was somewhat surprised when there was no answer at Spock's door, and remembered only then that Spock was angry with him. All the same, he felt no qualms about letting himself in. He expected Spock to be meditating, or perhaps even sleeping, so was taken aback when he found him sitting at his desk, apparently working.

"I see the engaging of privacy locks is redundant," Spock remarked without looking up.

"Sorry." Kirk gestured towards the door. "Would you rather I didn't?"

Spock went still, then looked up at him, his expression heavily guarded. "I require solitude at this time."

The tension in Spock's posture and voice were at odds with Kirk's buoyant mood, leaving him completely off-balance. "Are you mad because I touched you in front of your dad?" he ventured. "Because if so, I'm sorry, and it won't happen again."

"I am not 'mad,' as you put it."

"Really?" Kirk was less than convinced, but determined to push his luck. "So you won't mind if I do it again right now?"

"Would you then proceed to leave me alone?"

It wouldn't be his first choice, Kirk thought, but he said, "Sure, if that's what you want."

"Very well, then."

Kirk was torn between relief at not being utterly rejected and concern that there was still definitely something wrong, but he wasn't about to turn down an invitation, however lacking in enthusiasm it might be. He went to the other side of the desk and perched on the edge, facing Spock, who was sitting back in his chair and tilting his face up expectantly.

Kirk went instead for the hands, taking one between his and running his fingers over the back of Spock's the way he'd been shown. As much as he enjoyed the contact himself, the real thrill came from watching Spock's reaction. His pupils dilated, and Kirk could feel the pulse under his wrist quicken. Encouraged, he lifted the captive hand to his mouth and tentatively licked the length of one finger.

Spock's response was explosive; he leapt to his feet, simultaneously managing to shove Kirk back over the desk. Kirk grunted as his head made painful contact with the surface and tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but Spock was holding his hips firmly in place with one hand while the other pressed at his lips. Kirk took two of Spock's fingers into his mouth, and could have sworn that he saw a shudder pass through Spock's entire body.

In a sudden moment of delighted clarity, Kirk realized that for Spock, this essentially amounted to a blow job. He responded fervently, applying every trick he knew; he took them all the way into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tips, up and down the fingers and then in between them. Spock's breath hitched, and he began rocking his hips. Kirk wrapped his legs around Spock's waist and encouraged his movements by drawing him closer; instantly, the motion transformed from a gentle rocking to helpless bucking.

Kirk could feel his cock start to fill out and strain against his pants. He ground against Spock's thigh and sucked hard on his fingers. Spock made a strangled sound in his throat and brought his free hand up to Kirk's hair, tangling it between his fingers and holding him in place.

Spock was leaning over him, his face only a few inches away, close enough that Kirk could feel his heavy breathing against his face. Spock's eyes were closed, his brow creased as though in intense concentration. When Kirk allowed his teeth to graze lightly over Spock's knuckles, he gave something like a choked gasp. Kirk did it again, and again, all the while grinding himself against Spock's hip. Spock's other hand clenched painfully in his hair, and with that Kirk was undone; he came hard, shuddering and groaning around Spock's fingers.

The sound Spock made at that could only be described as a primal roar. He climbed onto the desk so that he was straddling Kirk's hips, still rubbing himself wantonly against Kirk's leg. In his dazed state, it was all Kirk could do to keep up his attention to Spock's fingers; Spock assisted by thrusting them in and out of Kirk's mouth, occasionally causing them to scrape over his teeth.

When Spock disentangled his hand from Kirk's hair and placed his fingers over the meld points, Kirk moaned his encouragement and tightened his legs' grip on Spock's waist. Just as he was closing his eyes and preparing to feel Spock's consciousness in his head, though, Spock jerked away, sending them both into a tangled heap on the floor.

"Ow," Kirk protested as he hauled himself to his feet.

Spock picked himself up swiftly and tugged his shirt straight, as though that could disguise the debauched appearance of his mussed hair and green-flushed skin.

"You really are gorgeous," Kirk said before he could stop himself.

Spock looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. And perhaps he had, because for all that he knew Spock was having one of his freak-outs, he couldn't help feeling giddy. He let his gaze travel lower, past the rumpled shirt, taking in the hand covered in green marks where he'd perhaps bitten harder than he thought, and lingering on the distinct bulge in his trousers that indicated Vulcan physiology was not so different as he might have feared.

"You must leave," Spock ground out between clenched teeth.

"Not until you tell me what the hell's going on."

"Get out." Spock turned his back on him. "I cannot be responsible for…"

"For what?" Kirk warily took a step towards him and slid his arms around Spock's waist. Spock flinched, but made no move to pull away. Kirk waited until he felt him relax, then moved closer and tucked his chin over Spock's shoulder.

Gradually, Spock's breathing returned to normal, and he covered Kirk's hands with his own. Kirk smiled and pressed a small, chaste kiss to the side of Spock's neck. "Feeling better?"

Spock's voice was barely more than a whisper as he replied, "I require rest."

"Any chance you'd let me stay?"

"I would prefer to be alone."

"Okay." Kirk felt as though he should say something more, but had no idea what; he was as out of his depth here as he knew Spock was. Instead, he breathed deeply of Spock's scent, heady from their exertions and overlaid with the ever-pervasive incense. Then he kissed the nape of Spock's neck, and reluctantly withdrew.

*

Spock did not come to Kirk's quarters the next morning, and was not present at breakfast. Kirk ate with Sulu and Chekov instead; he was amused to find they were now debating the merits of the antiquated standard model of particle physics.

Kirk's knowledge of the history of science was patchy at best, but after listening to Sulu's protestations for a while, he had to admit, "It does sound a bit convoluted."

"It was beautiful!" Chekov insisted indignantly, proceeding to expand on a lengthy and detailed description involving group theory. Kirk exchanged an amused glance with Sulu and pretended to listen.

He was more than a little relieved when Gaila joined them a few minutes later. "Hey," she said. "Where's your – I mean, where's Spock?"

Kirk frowned at her lapse but couldn't say anything with Sulu and Chekov there, so he just shrugged and said, "He's on shift in a half hour."

Gaila made a frustrated sound. "I'm trying to edit some code, but it needs his approval."

"Gaila," Kirk gave an exaggerated sigh. "Are you trying to override the porn filters again?"

Chekov almost choked on his cereal, but Gaila just rolled her eyes. "Took care of that weeks ago. Anyway, Spock said he'd come down to the lab last night, but he never showed."

"Really?" Kirk tried to sound disinterested, but he knew his concern was leaking out and hoped they would interpret it as purely professional. "Maybe he just got preoccupied. You know what he's like when he gets involved in an experiment or something."

"Uh huh." Gaila smirked and lifted her eyebrow at him. "I hear he has quite an involved experiment going on."

"He has been spending a lot of time in the astro lab," said Sulu, apparently oblivious to Gaila's complete lack of subtlety.

"Still?" said Kirk, surprised; Spock hadn't mentioned that particular project in a while.

"Oh yeah," said Gaila. "Rumor down in Engineering is that he's having a fling with someone in Astrophysics. Granger, I think her name was?"

Kirk didn't trust himself to say anything, so he focused on eating his breakfast instead. He could tell by the others' reactions that his outrage had to be evident on his face, though, and was about to come up with something about gossip being conduct unbecoming when Gaila saved him the trouble by adding, "Oh, don't worry, I told them it's nonsense. I mean, he doesn't even respond to _me_ , so no way does she have a shot."

"Either way," said Kirk, struggling to maintain the disinterest in his tone, "it's none of our business. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to report to the bridge."

He extracted himself with as much dignity as he could, but could feel the eyes on him as he left the room.

*

Spock was already on the bridge when Kirk arrived; he relinquished Kirk's chair the moment he appeared, and seemed as composed as ever.

"Thanks, Mr. Spock. Anything to report?"

"All systems are functioning as normal," Spock confirmed.

_And you?_ Kirk wanted to ask, _How are you functioning?_ Conscious of the Gamma shift personnel still present, he just said, "Great. Could you check in with Gaila? She said she was waiting for you to approve something."

Spock's expression suddenly darkened, and for a frightening moment Kirk thought he was going to lose it right there on the bridge. Fortunately, he seemed to recover his control, though his voice was tight as he recalled, "I had agreed to do that yesterday evening."

"I don't think it matters. She knows you've been busy. I just left her in the mess hall if you want to see her now."

"Very well."

Spock turned stiffly to leave, and Kirk was alarmed to see that his hands, clasped at the base of his spine, were shaking.

*

Spock refused to see him that night, and for several nights afterwards. Kirk was becoming increasingly worried, but there was little he could say, since Spock turned up on time for his shift each day and appeared to be performing his duties flawlessly.

He demonstrated no particular animosity towards Kirk, either; he just insisted, quite politely, that he was required in some lab or needed to meditate each evening. And since they were always surrounded by people, there was little Kirk could say.

He found numerous other ways to fill his time, and if pressed he had to admit to himself that spending time with people other than Spock was probably good for him. The rest of the crew were beginning to relax around him a little more, to the extent that they didn't even hide the contraband the moment he entered a room.

Truth be told, though, he still spent most of his off-duty hours with Spock, albeit an alternate version of him. There was something quite relaxing about the older Spock's company; he was everything Kirk liked about his own Spock, but lacking the constant undercurrent of tension. There was always a melancholy air around him, though; sometimes he would become distracted, or stare at Kirk as though he were a ghost – which, he supposed, he sort of was. And occasionally, on their wanderings around the ship, he would pause at a seemingly innocuous room or corridor, and he would stop mid-sentence and suddenly insist that he had to retire for the night.

A few times, Kirk came close to vocalizing his concerns about the younger Spock, but without anything concrete he could say was wrong, he couldn't think of a way to broach the subject. He could hardly say, _he's stopped having sex with me_ , and _he's lost interest in chess_ didn't sound like a big enough deal.

One day, he was handing over the bridge to Beta shift when he heard Uhura ask, "Spock, you still okay to help out with accompaniment at the music club tonight?"

It was an innocent enough question, and Kirk wasn't even listening for the response, but then Spock suddenly turned on her, snapping, "I have no patience for your trivial pursuits."

The entire bridge, comprising all of Alpha and Beta shifts at that moment, turned to stare at him. Uhura was gaping, utterly dumbfounded. Seeing that everyone was staring at them, she recovered her composure and replied calmly, "No need to bite my head off, it was just a question."

Spock's eyes went wide, and he made a threatening move towards her. She pre-empted him, ducking out of the way and moving to the side to grab one of his arms, and by then Kirk was there to take the other one. Between them, they almost managed to restrain him, but his strength exceeded theirs combined.

What followed was the most surreal fight Kirk had ever partaken in. For a while, everyone else on the bridge just watched, stunned and perhaps wary of getting involved in a fight with a Vulcan – especially one who was a superior officer. Kirk and Uhura were left to try to subdue him between them, but he was able to throw them off with ease. It wasn't until Sulu, Chekov and Riley, the Beta shift navigator, joined in that they were able to pin him to the floor. Someone had evidently had the sense to call Medical, because McCoy wormed his way between them and stabbed Spock in the neck with a hypo. Kirk waited until Spock went still, then gestured for everyone to back away.

"What the hell was that?" McCoy demanded.

Kirk ignored him and turned to Uhura. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, but she looked confused. "Did I accidentally insult his mother or something?"

"Not that I heard," said Kirk. "Bones, can you get him to Sickbay? And call his father – I have a feeling he knows what's going on."

McCoy stared at him in disbelief. "Are you telling me he just went crazy for no reason?"

"Apparently." Kirk shrugged. "Can you get him out of here? And you," he turned around to the gathered spectators, "back to work. Show's over."

*

Kirk spent the evening beside Spock's bed in Sickbay, ignoring the frequent glares that earned him from McCoy. Uhura appeared after an hour or so, and approached the bed nervously.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Kirk told her.

"Do you know what's gotten into him? I mean, he's never done anything like that before."

"He's beaten _me_ up before," Kirk reminded her.

" _You_ deserved it."

"Maybe," Kirk shrugged.

"So what is it this time?"

"I don't know." At her disbelieving and somewhat accusatory look, he added, "Seriously. I mean, he's been acting weird ever since we picked up the Vulcans, but not violent-weird."

It was only as he said it that he realized that wasn't strictly true, but he wasn't about to tell Uhura about being thrown over a desk while he sucked off Spock's fingers, so he kept quiet.

Uhura sighed and flopped into the seat on the other side of the bed. She looked around to check they could not be overheard, then said in a low voice, "I thought you two had worked things out?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, whatever crap you're pulling, stop it. You've screwed with him enough as it is."

"What the hell? Your ex goes psycho on you, and somehow it's _my_ fault?"

She raised her eyebrow in a remarkable imitation of Spock. "Most things are."

He scowled at her for that, but had to allow, "Maybe. But I honestly have no idea what's going on this time. He was absolutely fine before we picked up the Vulcans, I swear."

"He seemed okay," she admitted with a shrug. "Happy, even."

Kirk couldn't help his grin at that. He looked at Spock, unconscious on the biobed, and idly traced the back of his hand with the tips of his fingers.

Uhura gave a snort of disgust, but when Kirk looked up she was smiling. "I still don't approve," she warned him.

"I know."

McCoy chose that moment to come over. Kirk was overwhelmingly grateful for Uhura's presence, which kept McCoy from voicing his thoughts; he didn't know that Uhura knew about Kirk and Spock.

"Sarek won't tell me anything," McCoy said bitterly while he took Spock's readings. "And the other hobgoblin's being just as tight-lipped. They just say he has to get to the Vulcan colony."

"I thought M'Benga was trained on Vulcans?" said Kirk.

"He is. And still isn't good enough, apparently. Damn Vulcan voodoo."

He worked in uncomfortable silence until Uhura excused herself for her music practice, then he turned on Kirk. There was real venom in his voice as he said, "Does this qualify as jeopardizing the welfare of the crew?"

"I'm sure it does, but it has nothing to do with me."

"Oh really?" McCoy sounded distinctly unconvinced.

"Yes, really. He hasn't touched me in over a week. I should have known something was wrong right away," he realized with a frown, "but I was trying to give him space."

"I don't want to know about him touching you. Ever."

"Fine." Kirk rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Spock, and they remained in silence until McCoy found somewhere else to be.

The first sign Kirk had that Spock had woken up was when the hand beneath his turned over and gripped his, hard.

"Hey," said Kirk. "Also, ow?"

Spock relaxed his grip and gave him an apologetic look.

"You look better," Kirk remarked. "How do you feel?"

"Quite well. May I inquire as to why I have been restrained?"

"Because you went crazy and attacked Uhura on the bridge."

"Ah." Spock looked up at the ceiling, his lips pursed in a thin line.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Jim." Spock turned his head to the side, facing him, and looked so agonized that Kirk almost regretted the question. "I cannot. You could not possibly understand."

"Try me?" 

Spock just looked away, leaving Kirk feeling utterly exasperated. 

"I'm going to have to write you up for assaulting a fellow officer," he pointed out. "And there's a limit to how forgiving I can be if I don't know what's going on."

"You should not be forgiving. My actions were inexcusable."

Kirk was almost at the point of losing his temper when he caught sight of the older Spock out of the corner of his eye. Kirk gave him a questioning look and made an exasperated gesture towards the bed.

"Jim," said the older Spock carefully, "could you wait outside?"

Kirk gave him a pained look, but agreed. He gave Spock's hand one last squeeze, then walked swiftly to the door.

He tried pacing the corridor for a while, earning strange looks from passing crewmembers, and eventually gave up and returned to his quarters. He tried to get some work done, but in the end found himself just staring at reports until, finally, the buzzer sounded at his door.

"Thank god," Kirk sighed when the door opened to admit Spock Senior. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with him?"

Spock gave him an apologetic look. "Jim, believe me when I say that I tried to convince him to share this with you. He was… less than receptive to my suggestion."

"I'll bet," Kirk gave a rueful laugh. "Did you know he's not exactly fond of you?"

"I had surmised as much."

"You don't find that weird?"

"On the contrary, at his age I would have been utterly terrified of me. He is handling the situation far better than I would have."

Kirk considered this for a moment. "You're a lot more…" he wanted to say _human_ but didn't want to give offense, so settled for, "emotional than he is. Are you saying you used to be more like him?"

Spock's eyebrow conveyed surprise, though at what part of his statement wasn't clear. "Your first officer," he replied carefully, as though weighing out each word, "is significantly more comfortable with his dual identity than I was at his age."

"Really?" Kirk had a hard time believing that.

"Of course, in my timeline we were not yet acquainted. You are already aware, I believe, that you have a devastating effect on our emotional control."

Kirk made no attempt to hide the grin that spread across his face, and he was sure he wasn't mistaking the fond look that passed across Spock's.

"If you can't tell me what's wrong, can you at least tell me that he's going to be okay?"

"He will be fine," Spock assured him. "He simply needs to return to the Vulcan colony, and since that is where we are heading, he will have a far easier time than I did when this first happened to me."

"You had the same thing?"

"It is… an affliction of my father's race."

"I see. And you're sure he'll be okay?"

"Quite sure."

"Can I go back and see him?"

"It would be best if you did not. Can I perhaps tempt you with a game of chess?"

Kirk gestured to the seat across from him with a genuine smile. "Always."

*

No one expected Spock to show up for his shift the next day, so Chekov took over the scanners, and they settled in for another day at warp.

Kirk looked up at the sound of the turbolift doors opening, and was taken aback to see Spock Senior standing there, staring wide-eyed at the bridge.

"What's wrong?" Kirk asked, jumping to his feet. "Is Spock okay?"

At first, it seemed that the older Spock did not hear him, he was so captivated. Then he shook his head and seemed to come back to himself, and there was a faint smile in his eyes as he reported, "All is well, Captain. With your permission, I believe I am able to assume your science officer's duties."

At first, Kirk was too surprised to say anything. Then a grin spread across his face. "I don't know. Are you technically a member of Starfleet?"

"I gave many years of service to Starfleet."

"Good enough for me." Kirk gestured towards the science station. "Have at it."

Spock seemed in something of a daze as he walked across the bridge, taking in each of the consoles, running a hand over the back of the command chair and finally pausing in front of his station.

Kirk went to his side and looked over Spock's shoulder while he acquainted himself with the controls. His hands moved almost reverently, and Kirk found himself fixated by the sight.

"Everything where you left it?" Kirk asked with a grin.

It took Spock a while to respond, and when he did, it was so low that only Kirk could hear. "Almost," he said, and there was just a hint of a tremor in his voice.

*

The younger Spock was in his quarters, staring blankly at his computer screen, when Kirk found him.

"Spock?" he ventured when his presence was not acknowledged.

It seemed to take great effort for Spock to lift his head, but when he did, his gaze was piercing. "Captain," he said.

"The other you said you were unwell. Is something wrong?"

"I am quite well." Spock's voice was tight, betraying the same tension as his eyes.

Kirk took a step towards him. "So why did you miss your shift?" 

Spock's eyes widened as he approached, but his expression was dark and unreadable. When Kirk was close enough, he reached out to lay a hand on Spock's shoulder, but Spock leaped up as though burned and backed hurriedly away.

Kirk instinctively recoiled. "Spock? What's going on?"

"I must ask that you leave."

"Not until you tell me what's going on. As your commanding officer, if not your…"

"Captain – Jim, I cannot. Please leave. It is not safe for you to remain here."

_Not safe_? Kirk just stared at him, dumbfounded and – if he was honest with himself – a little afraid. "Come on," he insisted. "Let me help?"

Spock turned his back on him, shaking his head. Kirk could see that his hands, clasped at the small of his back, were trembling, and that only made him more afraid; even in the act of frantic sex, Kirk had rarely seen him lose control to this extent.

"I must return to the Vulcan colony," Spock explained at last. There was a flatness to his voice, of resignation or fear.

"Well that's lucky," said Kirk, trying to keep his own voice light. "That happens to be where we're heading."

Spock's hands clenched, and he turned just a fraction so that he was looking sidelong at Kirk. There was desperation in his face; it was evident only in the tight set of his jaw and the widening of his eyes, but to Kirk, who had come to learn every nuance of that austere face, he may as well have been screaming.

"You don't mean just to visit, do you?"

Kirk heard the flatness in his own voice as though it emanated from some source external to him. Spock did not respond, but Kirk didn't need him to. He knew, had almost known the first time they visited the colony, and had feared it even longer than that.

It was some time before Spock spoke, and when he did, his voice was stiff and formal. "I am aware that I have committed to a further four-point-one years on this mission, and I will not –"

"Spock," Kirk cut him off, knowing that if he allowed Spock to offer to stay, he would accept the offer far too easily. "I can't bear to think of you leaving. You know that, I think."

"It would not be my choice, Jim."

_Then why?_ ran through Kirk's head, but he forced himself not to give voice to the protest. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if it were the survivors of a destroyed Earth who were struggling the way the Vulcan colonists appeared to be. Would he be able to force himself to stay away? He swallowed past the lump that had risen in his throat and did his best to sound reassuring rather than pleading.

"Spock, I don't want you to go. I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I don't think there's anything you could ask of me that I wouldn't do, if it would persuade you to stay." Kirk shifted awkwardly on his feet and stared at a spot on the opposite wall. "But only if it was what you wanted. I told you once that if going to the colony was really what you needed then I would make it happen, Starfleet be damned, and I stand by that."

Silence stretched out between them, laden with tension. Spock's eyes seemed to be boring into him but offering no hint as to what he was thinking. His hands were shaking and flexing spasmodically, the only betrayal of whatever turmoil was consuming him. Tentatively, Kirk took a step towards him, watching him carefully as though expecting him to bolt any moment.

Spock held still, though he watched with wide eyes as Kirk warily held out a hand. Spock hesitated, his eyes fixed on Kirk's outstretched hand, then slowly met it with his own. He closed his eyes, and his hand shook as he traced his fingers over Kirk's. The touch was so light that there was barely any contact, yet it tingled and caused the hair on the back of Kirk's neck to stand on end.

Spock let out a shuddering breath and went very still. Kirk did his best to think reassuring thoughts as he asked, "So what do you want?"

Spock's eyes snapped open and he slowly, with obvious reluctance, withdrew his hand.

"I wish to resign my commission and join the colony."

*

The last three days of the trip were the most excruciating Kirk had ever experienced. Spock would not see him, and Spock Senior would not betray his counterpart's confidence, albeit with obvious reluctance.

The worst part was having to inform Starfleet Command. Due to the distance involved, it took hours for each of his messages to be responded to, which only dragged out the process interminably.

Kirk was true to his word, though; in the face of the admiralty's insistence that Spock be held to his five-year commitment, Kirk stubbornly fought for Spock's cause, though it pained him with every word. He said they could call it compassionate leave, or medical leave, or whatever they liked, but as far as Kirk was concerned he was getting an honorable discharge, and that was that.

The last message he received was from Pike. He used the intensely irritating tactic superiors often had of seeming sad rather than angry as he looked straight into the camera and said, "I really thought you'd be able to get over your differences and work well together. I'm very disappointed in you, Jim."

Kirk just started at the screen and blinked against the sting in his eyes. "You have no idea," he muttered at the screen.

*

Sarek and Spock Senior beamed down to the colony first. Sarek wished Kirk peace and long life, but it sounded insincere, and with the disapproving father present, there was a limit to what he could say to Spock. In the end, he just clapped the elder Spock on the arm and said, "Are you sure I can't persuade you to be my first officer?"

Spock just gave him that faint smile with his eyes and replied, "As you once told me, galloping around the cosmos is a game for the young."

Kirk was about to protest that he'd never said that, when he realized it wasn't him that Spock was referring to. And that, perhaps, was the real answer to his question, that he wasn't this Spock's Kirk, and this wasn't his _Enterprise_.

"I see," he said sadly. "Well, take care of him, all right? Both of you, I mean."

Sarek did not acknowledge the comment, presumably thinking it illogical, but Spock gave him a sympathetic look and said, "Do not give up hope, Jim. There are always possibilities."

It was probably just a vague platitude, and Kirk wasn't willing to allow himself any hope anyway, so he just gave a grim smile and ordered Scotty to beam them down.

He stood there for a while longer, staring at the transporter pad, and not daring to admit to himself that he was waiting for the next passenger to arrive. The younger Spock was taking his time packing up his quarters, though Kirk privately believed he just didn't want to beam down with the others.

He could feel Spock's presence the moment he appeared in the doorway, but Kirk did not turn around. He sensed Spock's gaze on his back, an interminably long silence, then Spock briskly crossed the room and stepped up onto the transporter pad. He did not meet Kirk's eyes as he ordered, "Energize."

"Wait." Kirk held up a hand to Scotty behind him. "Mr. Scott, you're dismissed. I'll take it from here."

"Sir?" Scotty narrowed his eyes warily, but at Kirk's firm expression said, "Aye, Cap'n," and left the room.

Once they were alone, Kirk took Spock's hand. It was shaking, and his eyes were unfocused; Kirk could hardly bear to look.

"I said I wasn't going to do this," Kirk sighed, "but please, won't you reconsider?"

"I have no choice."

"I know." Kirk ran his fingers over Spock's, watching as they twitched beneath his touch. "But when they've cured whatever this is, can't you come back? We can wait for you, or come back for you. Whatever you need."

"Jim." Spock closed his other hand over Kirk's, stilling him. "After it is done, you will not want me to return."

Utterly confused, Kirk looked him in the eye for the first time. There was only a very faint glimmer of the Spock he knew there, clouded over by whatever it was that was claiming him.

"I can't believe that," he said defiantly. "I don't accept that."

"It is true, nonetheless."

Spock held Kirk's gaze, and something shifted in his expression. There was a faint twitch of discomfort at the corners of his lips, and he leaned forward so slowly that Kirk almost didn't notice, until hot breath was ghosting over his face and Spock's lips brushed against his own.

Kirk made a desperate sound in the back of his throat and tried to deepen the kiss, but Spock pulled away.

"Please transport me down to the planet's surface."

"Okay." Kirk let out a shuddering breath. He lifted Spock's hand and kissed it with his lips and fingers, and then turned away quickly, before his resolve could fail.

Suddenly, he wished he'd allowed Scotty to remain, because standing behind the console and watching the transporter beam claim Spock was perhaps the hardest thing he'd ever done.

For some time afterwards, Kirk just stared at the empty transporter pad. He could still feel the tingle where Spock had touched him. He unconsciously raised a finger to his lips.

He turned around, disoriented, and saw McCoy standing in the doorway. He felt as though someone was twisting his gut; his hands clenched into fists at his sides and he snapped, "Get out."

McCoy took a step forward instead, though he watched Kirk warily. Kirk lowered his voice to his most dangerous tone and repeated, "I said, get out." 

McCoy looked as though he was going to protest, but then his shoulders sagged and he shook his head. "All right," he said. "If that's what you want."

"What I want?" Kirk laughed without humor. "None of this is what I want. Seems you got what you wanted, though. He's gone. Are you happy now?"

McCoy backed away, keeping his eyes fixed on Kirk. "No, I'm not happy," he spat. "I had no idea… I didn't know…"

"What?" Kirk sighed. "What didn't you know?"

McCoy shook his head, frowning. "I thought you were just fooling around for kicks or whatever it is you do. It hadn't even occurred to me you were capable of caring about the green-blooded hobgoblin."

Kirk slumped against the console and dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't bear to even look at McCoy as he said, "Me neither. I didn't exactly plan on it."

He felt McCoy's hand on his shoulder and came dangerously close to losing it. "I don't know what to say," McCoy admitted. "I never thought I'd see the day you landed yourself in an actual relationship."

Kirk felt a lump rise in his throat and angrily shook off McCoy's hand. "A couple hand jobs don't make a _relationship_ ," he sneered bitterly.

McCoy said nothing, but his raised eyebrow conveyed that he was not fooled. Kirk couldn't bear to look at him, so he turned aside and snapped, "Don't you have a job to do?"

McCoy took a step back, frowning. "Yeah, I do. My job's to look after the people on this ship. Even if they can't look after themselves."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're an idiot." McCoy threw his hands up in the air and gave an exasperated sigh. "For goodness' sake, are you just gonna hang around here moping, or are you going after him?"

"I can't. He said this is what he wanted."

"If you believe that, you're even dumber than I thought."

"Thanks."

"Look, I don't know what's going on in that crazed Vulcan head of his, but I do know I'm not clearing you for duty until you find out."

Kirk gave him a skeptical look. "I think that's an abuse of power."

"You want to tell me you're in any state to command a starship?"

Kirk couldn't really argue with that, so he just shrugged. McCoy rolled his eyes and disappeared out into the corridor. Kirk had almost pulled himself together enough to retreat to his quarters when McCoy reappeared with a confused-looking Scotty in tow.

"Doctor McCoy says I'm to beam ye down to the planet?" Scotty said somewhat nervously.

Kirk's intention was to belay the order, but when he thought about leaving orbit without Spock he felt nauseated. With sudden conviction, he jumped up onto the transporter pad and said, "She's all yours, Mr. Scott. Take care of her while I'm sorting this out."

"Aye, Cap'n." Scotty grinned in the way that meant he was going to have a great time while Kirk was gone.

*

Kirk was disoriented when he materialized on the planet's surface. At first, he couldn't think where to start looking, but he quickly recalled the way to the older Spock's home and figured it was time for an overdue confrontation.

Walking through the colony was surreal because of how little it had changed since his last visit, some five months previously. The same buildings were in the same state of partial completion, and the streets were deserted. It was the middle of the afternoon here at the main settlement, yet there was no one in sight.

Kirk was somewhat surprised to find Spock not only home, but alone, and was thrown off-balance when Spock looked utterly unsurprised to see him. The sense that he was expected was the last straw to his tenuous control; his brittle temper snapped, and he yelled, "You manipulative bastard!"

That earned him no more than a raised eyebrow, so he continued, "You set all this up, claiming we were going to have this epic friendship, and now he's gone and I'm not leaving here until you tell me why."

"It is not permanent," Spock said, quite calmly. "There is no reason he may not rejoin your ship tomorrow."

"That's not what he says. He insists I won't want him to come back after… whatever it is he has to do."

"Then he underestimates your tolerance for his… particular kinds of madness."

"Dammit, will you stop talking in riddles? Just tell me what the hell's going on. Things were going absolutely swimmingly until you showed up, then suddenly I'm out a first officer. I _know_ you have something to do with this."

Spock looked as though he was about to protest, but then he closed his eyes and suddenly looked very old. He took a seat and gestured for Kirk to sit beside him. Kirk hesitated – he really wanted to stay angry, since that was much easier than the alternative – but realized he was exhausted. He relented and took a seat beside Spock, and lowered his voice. "Please. Whatever it is, you know I can handle it."

"I do know that," Spock admitted. "It was difficult for me to explain this to my own captain."

"But you did?"

"I did."

"Then why didn't he tell me?"

"That, I cannot say. He is younger than I was, and the circumstances are significantly different."

"But _you_ can tell me?"

"Understand that I do so with great reluctance. It is not my place."

"You've never had any issues with meddling before," Kirk pointed out.

"This is true." Spock took a deep breath and gave him a serious look. "May I trust that this will go no further?"

"Of course."

"It is a thing no outworlder may know," Spock began. He went still, and Kirk wondered if he was going to stop there. There was a long, awkward silence before Spock continued, "Vulcans are cursed with a shameful cycle; once every seven years, they must take a mate, or die."

Despite Spock's serious tone, Kirk couldn't help it; he suddenly burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," he said at Spock's indignant look. "I just… Are you for real? He has to have _sex_? That's all this is?"

"You should not trivialize it. This Time strips us of our prized logic, renders us little more than beasts. You have seen the effects for yourself, I believe."

Kirk wasn't sure he'd ever forget the sight of Spock turning on Uhura, utterly unprovoked. "Okay," he agreed. "I get that. It's scary."

"Even under normal circumstances, it is unsettling. And our circumstances are far from normal. You deduced correctly why we were seeking aid from the Betazoids."

"It's to do with telepathy?"

"Indeed. You see, in order to ensure that each Vulcan has a mate when his Time approaches, they are bonded to their future mates as children."

"Right." Kirk had a flash of memory, of Uhura telling him that all Vulcans were bonded. Suddenly that made sense. Except… "Wait. Are you telling me Spock's already bonded to someone?"

Spock nodded. "Her name was T'Pring. She perished with Vulcan."

"Oh." Kirk hated himself for the small hint of relief he felt at that, but he wasn't sure how he'd deal with knowing that Spock had been, for all intents and purposes, married all this time.

"Jim," Spock sighed. "Almost everyone on this colony had a bond to at least one of the six billion lives lost on Vulcan, whether marital or familial in nature. I cannot convey to one who has not experienced it, the absolute agony of the severing of such a bond through sudden, unexpected death."

"Oh," Kirk said again. Why had neither Spock ever mentioned that? It was true that he couldn't imagine it, but he'd had no idea…

His eyes drifted to the side table, where a holo of an older version of himself stood with the Spock of another universe.

"Jim, the truth is that the people here are barely surviving. We have a shortage of trained healers familiar with our needs, and in the absence of help to heal these severed bonds, our people's mental discipline is failing. You witnessed one such failure on your last visit, I believe."

"Yeah." Kirk's head was spinning. Selfish though it might have been in the face of an entire colony's suffering, all he could think of was Spock. How many times had Spock told him he was struggling with his emotional control, and how many times had Kirk arrogantly assumed that all he meant was that he was helpless to defend himself against the charms of Jim Kirk?

"Hang on, though." Kirk forced himself to focus. "This is all linked to the thing Spock – my Spock – is suffering from?"

"We do not fully understand what has triggered the early onset of pon farr, but my counterpart's case is not isolated. I know from personal experience that he should not have suffered this for another six years. It is possible that it is the result of the severed bond."

"But that was over a year ago," Kirk pointed out. "Why now? Are you saying it's a coincidence that it happened right after you and Sarek came on board?"

Spock shifted uncomfortably. "Your first officer is fond of criticizing my mental control. I regret to say that I melded with him, in order to convey the plight of the colony. It is possible that allowing him to feel directly the troubles affecting the colony may have had… unwanted side effects."

"I see," Kirk sighed. "Seriously, your melds should come with a health warning."

"So I understand."

"His aren't so controlled either, if that makes you feel better."

"I do not see why it would."

"No. I guess you wouldn't." Kirk ran a hand through his hair and tried to force his thoughts into order. "So what happens now? He has to bond with a Vulcan?"

"The bond is not necessary, merely socially desirable. A suitable mate is being sought for him as we speak."

Kirk dug his nails into his palms to keep from protesting that Spock already _had_ a suitable mate.

"Jim," Spock said gently. "I do not know why he did not wish to tell you this, but I can assure you that there is no reason he will not be able to rejoin the _Enterprise_ once the mating urge is settled."

"Oh, I do," said Kirk with a resigned sigh. "He doesn't think I'll want him back on board once he's gone and married some random Vulcan."

"Why would that be?"

Kirk looked pointedly at the holo beside them. "You really don't know?"

Spock looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you mean to say that you and he share a romantic relationship?"

Kirk wasn't sure he'd use the word 'romantic,' but it was close enough. "Well, yeah," he said. He looked at the holo again, confused; was it really not how it looked? "Didn't you and… you know, your Kirk?"

"We did," said Spock in a voice so low it was barely audible. "Though not until many years from now."

"So I guess he dealt with the fact that you were bonded to someone else?"

"I was not. My childhood bond was never completed. Jim was my bondmate."

Spock's voice was so laden with emotion that Kirk almost felt that he was intruding by listening. Still, he had to know, so he kept pressing, "But I don't understand. It doesn't have to be a Vulcan? Or even a woman?"

"Not at all. My father also chose a human bondmate."

"Of course. So, I'm confused. All he has to do is have sex, and it doesn't have to be with a Vulcan or a woman. So the reason my Spock is looking for some random Vulcan woman he's never met instead of asking me is what, exactly?"

"Only he can answer that with certainty. I can make a guess, however."

"You?" Kirk smiled. "You can _guess_?"

Spock's lips twitched just a fraction. "A skill my bondmate once taught me." He frowned as he explained, "The plak tow, or blood fever, is accompanied by a loss of emotional control that is quite frightening to those who spend their lives suppressing all trace of emotion. The loss of control is… disturbing."

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "He's always freaked out about being in control. But seriously, this is ridiculous. He's leaving Starfleet, leaving me, because he's embarrassed by some biological urge? Doesn't he know me at _all_?"

"I will admit that I shared his trepidation in my time, and was reluctant to experience pon farr with my captain. Though I can say, after many years' experience, that you – or rather, the you of another time – do not share my misgivings."

Kirk's mind boggled at the idea of this older version of Spock casually discussing a sex life they'd had in another universe, and it took him a moment to parse what Spock was actually saying. The thought of this other version of himself dealing with a Spock in heat was kind of hilarious, though. "I'll bet," he said with a wry smile. "So can I stop this and shake some sense into him?"

"If anyone can, Jim, it would have to be you."

*

Spock showed him to his father's office at the embassy, where his younger self had been taken, but refused to go inside with him. Kirk tried to protest at the unreasonable lines he was drawing in the extent of his meddling in this universe, but Spock was adamant.

Sarek's office was exactly as Kirk remembered it, entirely devoid of anything to indicate it was inhabited. A plain desk faced the door, and behind it was seated the most famous of the Vulcan elders, T'Pau. Kirk felt his nervousness increase tenfold the moment he caught sight of her, though she spared him not a single glance. Sarek was standing beside the desk, looking as grave as ever.

Kirk rapped on the open door to announce his presence, and stepped inside. "Ambassador Sarek," he said. "If I might have a word?"

T'Pau looked up then, and if Kirk had thought Sarek's expression was disparaging, T'Pau's looked as though it could turn him to stone. She spoke for Sarek, announcing in a cool tone, "We are presently occupied."

"I understand that, ma'am, but I wish to speak to Sarek about his son."

A sound drew Kirk's attention to the far corner, behind him. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he turned around and caught sight of Spock. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes rolling back in his head and his fingers steepled before him. Kirk took an instinctive step towards him.

" _Kroikah_!" T'Pau's sharp voice rent the tense air. "Do not approach."

Kirk froze and turned to Sarek, who was glaring at him. Kirk sighed and held his hands out in a placating gesture. "Look," he said, "I know what's going on. And I can't let you marry him off to –"

"Who is this?" T'Pau demanded of Sarek.

"I'm Captain James T. Kirk."

For an allegedly emotionless species, Vulcans really knew how to give withering looks, Kirk mused. The one T'Pau gave to him just then made him feel like an errant schoolboy dressing in his father's uniform. He held his ground, though, and looked her straight in the eye.

"This is not a matter for outworlders," she informed him. "I must ask thee to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere." Kirk turned to face Spock, but he gave no sign that he even recognized him. "Spock?"

"He will not speak," said T'Pau. "And thy presence is an affront to our ways."

"And what you're trying to do is an affront to mine." Kirk took a deep breath, and when he turned to Sarek he allowed his expression to soften and his desperation to leak into his voice. "Spock – the other one – told me all about this… mating ritual thing. He also told me that the other party doesn't have to be Vulcan, or even female."

Sarek regarded him carefully, but his expression gave nothing away. "I presume you have an alternative suggestion?" 

"Yeah, I do." Kirk paused, unsure why this was so difficult to say. It was tempting to look away, but he forced himself to look Sarek in the eye. "Me. I'm offering me."

"Out of the question," said T'Pau, rising to her feet.

"Why?" Kirk demanded.

T'Pau glanced at Spock and pursed her lips. Her voice was thin and cold as she said, "It is said his Vulcan blood is thin. I will not permit his weak claim to the line of Surak to be further sullied by association with a human."

Kirk felt blind, cold rage settle over him. Heedless that he was speaking to the most powerful woman on Vulcan, he snapped, "It's a bit late for that. He's associated with me plenty – why would this time be any different?" He looked T'Pau directly in the eye and added, "And there is nothing wrong with his blood. Have you forgotten already that he risked his own life to save you? He's the most honorable person I've ever known, and if Vulcan doesn't want him then there are plenty of us who do."

T'Pau's eyes went wide, and she looked as though she meant to respond, but before she could, Sarek cut in with, "Spock shall be released to the captain."

T'Pau looked scandalized, and Kirk was too stunned by the unlikely support to say anything; all he could manage was a shocked look at Sarek.

"Forgive me, Captain," said Sarek, bowing his head. "I had surmised the nature of your association with my son, but it appears I had misread your character."

Kirk was too bowled over to even respond. For a moment, all he could do was stare openly at Sarek, but then a sound caused him to spin around.

Spock looked as though he was in pain, and a keening sound was coming from his throat. It took all the strength Kirk possessed not to go to him; he cast a frantic glance at Sarek.

"He can wait no longer," Sarek said.

"Thy choice is made?" said T'Pau. Kirk was sure she would deny it vehemently, but he would swear her voice was laden with disdain.

Sarek, though, seemed unperturbed. "It is," he confirmed.

"So I can take him back to the ship?" asked Kirk.

"That would be unwise," said Sarek. "There is a…facility for these situations. I shall have you shown to it."

Kirk had to feel sorry for Sarek at that moment; making arrangements for your son to get laid had to be awkward. Kirk waited while Sarek called someone on the intercom, trying not to look at Spock and trying even harder not to think about what he was doing.

It was no big deal, he reasoned; it was only sex. He and Spock had had plenty of that, and Kirk for one had wanted more. Yet he couldn't help but worry. If it really was this simple, why hadn't Spock wanted it? Why was he more willing to be bonded to a complete stranger than to have sex with Kirk?

Perhaps it was that Spock wanted to be bonded, Kirk thought, only not to him. That idea shouldn't hurt as much as it did – after all, Kirk wasn't ready to be bonded to Spock either. There was a difference, though, between not being ready and ruling the possibility out entirely.

Kirk was spared the continuance of his circuitous reasoning by the arrival of a young Vulcan woman. Sarek gestured for Kirk to follow her. He managed a weak smile, thanked Sarek and bowed politely to T'Pau, and then left as hastily as he could.

It was only a short walk, and a silent one. Once they were outside, Kirk looked around frantically for the older Spock, but he was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, Kirk followed his guide towards a building almost as large as the Science Academy, and along with the Academy only the second properly complete building Kirk had seen on the colony.

Although Kirk knew some of the Vulcan language, he had never given it a great deal of study – ironically, it had seemed the least likely to get him laid. It was therefore not until they were inside the building that he realized its purpose: it was a medical facility.

"Seriously?" said Kirk under his breath to his guide. "I'm supposed to… here?"

She did not immediately reply, but led him down a long, empty corridor to an isolated room. Kirk balked when he saw the interior; it was plain, with walls of the unadorned, sand-colored stone of the building. There was a bed barely large enough for two, covered in plain, gray linen, and a small bedside cabinet. A door on the opposite side of the room stood ajar, revealing a bathroom.

The Vulcan woman caught sight of his expression and frowned. "You will find anything you might require in there," she gestured the cabinet beside the bed. "The intercom on the wall will connect you to Reception, should you require medical assistance."

Her job completed, she turned to leave. Kirk almost stayed her with a hand on her arm, but caught herself just in time. She noticed the aborted gesture and halted anyway, cocking her head in question.

"Medical assistance?" Kirk asked weakly. "Is that likely?"

"It happens only in twelve-point-six percent of cases."

"Okay. And this really has to be done here?"

"Are the facilities insufficient?"

Kirk looked around at the sterile room and exhaled slowly. He hadn't exactly been expecting candlelight and champagne, but this was weird. Still, he was determined to do this, and if going through with it meant he'd have Spock back on the _Enterprise_ , what did location matter this one time?

"No," he said. "It's fine."

"He will be brought here in approximately four-point-five minutes. I would suggest you use the time to prepare yourself, as his condition will prevent him from taking sufficient care to avoid discomfort."

Kirk blinked at her. He briefly wondered how she came upon this knowledge, but figured it would be rude to ask. "Thank you," he said instead. "I appreciate your help."

She looked puzzled. Kirk realized that his gratitude was probably illogical since she wasn't being friendly, she was just imparting necessary information. All the same, he smiled at her. Her eyes widened as though he'd made some obscene gesture, and she quickly departed.

Alone, Kirk looked around the room in resignation. He supposed there was nothing to do but get on with it, so he looked through the drawers of the bedside cabinet. There was a lot of lube, as he'd expected, although the image of some austere Vulcan topping up the lube supplies for all the frantic, feverish sex was somewhat disturbing. What was even more worrying was that there were as many medical supplies as there were tubes of lubricant; he saw painkillers, topical salves, antiseptic creams, bandages…

Kirk withdrew one tube of lubricant and hurriedly shoved the drawer shut. Thinking about the intended uses of those supplies wasn't helping his nerves, and anyway he was sure Spock wouldn't hurt him. Fairly sure, anyway.

With a sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. Then, steeling himself as though for battle, he removed his pants and underwear and set about applying the lubricant to himself.

It was odd, that something he had been longing for, even fantasized about, was about to be granted to him, and yet he felt not the slightest bit aroused. Between the surroundings and the fact that he was having to prepare himself, alone, it all seemed so clinical. Perhaps a year ago, he might have thought _so Vulcan_ , but he knew now what passion Spock was capable of, and knew furthermore that it was not merely his human half that was so afflicted.

Thinking about Spock in the heat of passion was helping, he realized as his cock twitched in interest. He was kneeling on the bed, wearing only his gold shirt, twisted into an awkward position with two fingers inside himself. He tried not to think of how ridiculous he must look, but the thought was enough to quench the faint spark of arousal he'd been feeling.

He jumped at the sound of the door opening, but fortunately Spock entered alone. He looked disoriented, but then his nostrils flared and his eyes went wide and bore directly into Kirk.

"How are you feeling?" Kirk asked him.

Spock gave no reply, but advanced on him slowly, discarding his clothes as he went. Kirk was riveted; he had never seen Spock undress with such abandon, much less throw his clothes onto the floor. He felt himself harden, and instinctively went to take himself in hand.

At that, Spock launched himself towards the bed, letting out a sound that could only be described as a roar. He collided with Kirk, shoving him roughly down on the bed and pinning his arms by his sides.

Kirk let out a delighted laugh and lifted his head for a kiss, but Spock held himself just out of reach. The intensity in his eyes was unlike anything Kirk had ever seen; hot, undoubtedly, yet strangely unfocused.

They remained frozen like that for a moment, tension solidifying in the air between them. Kirk arched his back, seeking more contact, but his hips were held firm by Spock's knees.

"Spock?" he tried.

Spock looked as though he was in pain; he screwed his eyes shut, gasped, and looked as though he was about to say something, but all that came out was a low growl. Then, as though something in him had snapped, he suddenly freed Kirk's arms and picked up the tube of lubricant that had been discarded on the other side of the bed.

With his hands now free, Kirk ran them up and down Spock's thighs and over his hips to his ass, while he enjoyed being finally afforded an unhindered view of his cock.

In all the weeks he'd been denied this, Kirk had inevitably come to assume there was some reason for Spock's reticence. He was somewhat surprised, then, to discover that Spock was really not all that different to himself. Spock was longer and thinner, with a less pronounced glans, but the most startling difference was the color. The shaft was tinged the same green that occasionally flushed Spock's cheeks, and the head was a deep olive. Kirk had known to expect that, of course, since it was akin to the red color of his own penis; what he hadn't expected was how exceptionally hot he would find it. It was exotic and beautiful, and Kirk thought the sight of Spock covering his own cock with lubricant might just finish him then and there.

Tentatively, he moved one hand over Spock's hip, but before he could get any closer, Spock gripped him fiercely around his waist and forcefully flipped him onto his stomach.

Kirk barely had a moment to catch his breath before Spock tore his shirt from his back, flung it aside and hauled him up onto his hands and knees. 

Kirk stifled a cry in the pillow as he felt the heavy, blunt edge of Spock's erection stab repeatedly at him, sometimes slipping awkwardly to the side. Eventually, he felt it press into him; he bit his lip as he bore down, and gradually the head slipped inside. Spock went still for a moment; then, without warning, he slammed the rest of the way in.

Kirk cried out, but it was more in surprise than pain; he was suddenly intensely grateful for the advice to prepare himself thoroughly. From there, it was frantic; Spock thrust at a maddening pace, sometimes in a short rocking motion and at other times pulling almost all the way out.

Once Spock had settled into a rhythm, Kirk took himself in hand. His erection had flagged when Spock entered him, and now, try though he might, he could not rekindle it. It wasn't even that he was particularly uncomfortable – if anything, Spock was less rough than he might have feared – yet there was still something off about the whole encounter. Kirk couldn't shake the impression that Spock had no idea whom he was fucking; he could be any anonymous vessel selected for the purpose of satisfying Spock's blood fever.

What freaked Kirk out the most was not the feeling of being used – he'd agreed to this in full knowledge of what it entailed, after all. Anyway, he was Jim Kirk: sex was sex, for whatever dubious reason it was offered. The thought that nagged at his mind was not the emptiness of the encounter, but the fact that he noticed it at all. Since when did he care about having an emotional attachment with his sexual partners, much less with Spock?

That thought clouded his mind to the exclusion of all else, so that he registered only mild discomfort from the awkwardness of his position. After a while, his arms began to ache, so he fell down onto his elbows, trying no to imagine how ridiculous he must look lying there with his ass in the air.

A few times, he heard the familiar hitch in Spock's breathing and felt him shudder while fingers dug harder into his hips, and he was sure the ordeal was over. But Spock's rhythm would falter for only a moment, and then he would continue, relentless and unceasing.

He could not have said how long he lay there. His knees and back ached, his hips were sore where Spock's hands gripped them, and his ass burned. He was just beginning to wonder how much more of this he could stand when one of Spock's hands released his hip, and Spock leaned over him until he could place his fingers on Kirk's face. Only half-aware of what was going on, Kirk grunted his assent and lifted his head so that Spock could more easily reach the meld points.

Spock's thoughts crashed into his with such ferocity that Kirk was left reeling. He couldn't sort through the maelstrom to identify discrete thoughts or emotions; all he felt was a raging torrent, as though fire were tearing through his body. He felt it everywhere; his head throbbed, his blood burned, even his fingers ached. In the initial shock of it, it registered neither as pleasure nor as pain, just as a burn so intense that he felt he might explode from the pressure.

Gradually, the shock receded, and he became aware of a slower-burning heat gathering inside him that was distinctly pleasurable. He realized he was experiencing the sensation of thrusting into himself; possibly the weirdest yet most incredible thing he'd ever felt. The heat spread through him slowly, prickling over every inch of his skin all the way to his fingertips, causing his toes to curl and his scalp to tingle. He heard his name, _Jim_ , though whether it was in his mind or spoken aloud he couldn't tell, and then he was shuddering through the most intense orgasm he'd ever felt.

He remained in the same position, shaking, while Spock's mind unfurled from his and gently withdrew. At the same moment, he felt Spock slip from his body, and winced at the ache he left behind. Awkwardly, he twisted himself around onto his back, grimacing at the pain in his knees and back.

Spock collapsed half-atop him, and within moments was fast asleep. Kirk gave a wry smile at that, then carefully extricated himself from Spock's arms and headed to the bathroom. He was uncomfortably sticky, and desperately needed a shower. He set the sonics to the highest frequency, and set about removing the evidence of the afternoon's activities.

It was only then, in the shower, that he noticed the sticky mess on his chest and realized that, somehow, he had actually ejaculated. He had assumed he was only feeling Spock's climax, but it seemed the meld did more than that, and all Kirk could think at this revelation was, _Fascinating_.

*

When Kirk emerged from the bathroom, Spock was still asleep. He considered climbing back into bed, but he felt restless and wanted to be back on the _Enterprise_. He wondered whether he should wake Spock, but wasn't sure he was ready to face the conversation that was bound to follow this incident just yet. Instead, he quietly set about searching the floor for his clothes.

His boots, he found tucked beneath the bed, and beside them were his underwear and pants. His shirt, though, was a tattered wreck tossed in several different directions. He sighed inwardly; beaming up half-naked was going to be a bit awkward, but it could have been worse.

Before leaving, he spent a moment just watching Spock. He looked at peace, and it was hard to believe this was the same person who had ravaged him so thoroughly earlier.

Kirk smiled to himself, and quietly slipped out of the room. The long corridor was deserted, and when he passed through the reception area no one even looked up, for which he was grateful.

He stepped out into the street, and it was then that he spotted Spock Senior waiting just outside. Spock's eyebrow quirked at his attire, or lack thereof, to which Kirk gave a shrug.

"How do you feel?" Spock asked.

Kirk intended to brush the question off with a remark about it being an odd one for a Vulcan to ask, but surprised himself by answering honestly, "Weird."

Spock's brow furrowed, and his expression became distant. Kirk wondered what he was recalling, but couldn't bring himself to ask; he had too much to deal with already. "He's asleep," he added. "Will he be okay now?"

"If he is sleeping then the fever has passed," Spock confirmed.

"That's a relief," Kirk said with a wry smile. "Not sure I could take much more of that."

"Are you injured?"

"Nah. Sitting down won't be fun for a day or so, but I'm fine." Spock looked unconvinced, so Kirk added, "Hey, that mind meld thing? Absolutely awesome."

The tension eased out of Spock's face, and Kirk was sure he saw the glint of a smile in his eyes. "You always were fond of that."

Kirk began to grin at that, but was suddenly overcome by the realization of how it must have felt for this Spock on their first meeting in the cave on Delta Vega, when he had recoiled from the mind meld. Feeling distinctly awkward, he flipped open his communicator. "Make sure he follows me up to the ship, okay?"

"I shall."

Kirk hesitated, then, on a whim, closed his communicator and extended his hand. At first, Spock just looked at it, and Kirk thought he meant to refuse the gesture, but then he touched their fingers lightly together.

"I didn't know what this meant before," Kirk said softly. "I do now. You really are a manipulative bastard, you know that?"

Spock's expression clouded over, but his lips twitched into a faint smile. "In my time, I caused you a great deal of pain. I would mitigate that in this timeline, if I am able."

Kirk burned with curiosity, but managed to refrain from asking what this Spock had done to his Kirk. The lift of Spock's eyebrow indicated that he sensed the curiosity, but he did not remark on it.

"You know," said Kirk after a long silence. "All you've done since you got to this timeline is try to push us together."

"That is inaccurate," Spock protested.

"Maybe," said Kirk before Spock could go on to list his other accomplishments. "But it's certainly been high on your priority list."

"Do you not understand why?"

"Yeah, I do. And don't think I'm not grateful for your help, but I think – on this front at least – you can lay off the meddling now."

"I understand," said Spock gravely. There was definite sadness evident in his tone and in his eyes, though Kirk was at a loss to guess why. "Although I fear my other self is less equipped for these matters even than I was. He has suffered much grief that I did not."

"He has," Kirk agreed. "But he's not less than you because of it. And if he is a bit more broken than you were at his age then, well," he shrugged, "I'm not your well-balanced Kirk either."

Spock seemed to consider this for a moment, and then said, "You mean to say that you believe you complement one another?"

"I mean to say – and with no disrespect to you, of course – that I wouldn't have him any other way."

*

Kirk was dozing in his quarters, not able to sleep yet too tired to do anything else, when the buzzer announced a visitor.

He wearily hauled himself to his feet and called, "Enter." He knew who it was, of course, but he still felt a small thrill when Spock stepped into the cabin.

Spock's expression was solemn, and he did not look directly at Kirk as he began, "I have been informed of your intervention. I would like an explanation."

At first, Kirk was too stunned to say anything. Everything about Spock's demeanor, the rigid way he held himself and the stiffness of his voice, was at complete odds with what had happened only a few hours earlier.

"Are you serious?" he said at last. "You went off to marry someone else. How about you start by explaining that?"

"It is not that simple," said Spock, his gaze fixed on the wall.

"I have all night."

"It is – Even Vulcans do not speak of it among themselves. It is… shameful."

"Okay, I get that you're taught to be embarrassed about it, but honestly." Kirk tore his gaze away and started pacing. "Dammit Spock, this is me. Why couldn't you tell me?"

"Do you still wonder, after what you have experienced?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Tell me, why would it be better to go through that with a complete stranger?"

Spock was silent for long enough that Kirk stopped pacing and looked at him. He looked thoroughly miserable, by his standards; his eyes were dull and he avoided Kirk's gaze, and his shoulders were slumped. When he did speak, his voice was uncharacteristically weak. "I did not wish for you to see me that way."

Frustrated beyond belief, it was all Kirk could do not to take a swing at him. "Again," he said through clenched teeth, "explain why it would have been better with a stranger?"

"Because I would not then have injured you."

"What the hell?" Kirk threw up his hands in exasperation. "You didn't hurt me. I knew what I was doing. And in case you've forgotten, I've kind of been pestering you for that for weeks."

"Perhaps _you_ have forgotten," Spock responded coolly. "I shared your mind. I am fully aware of how you felt about the experience."

"Okay, so maybe it was a bit one-sided," Kirk allowed. "But you're really saying you would have thrown everything away to avoid that?"

"Jim," Spock began, but then he seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say. He turned away, and for a moment Kirk thought he meant to leave, but then he stilled, facing the door, and said, "The Time brings with it a madness, a kind of insanity. I did not know what I was doing; I knew only that I did not wish for you to become a victim of the madness."

"Dammit, Spock." Kirk felt himself deflate; for some reason, he found it impossible to stay mad, as much as he wanted to. "I'm not a victim of anything. Honestly, the only part of this whole thing that bothers me is that you didn't choose me. I kind of thought you would."

Spock glanced over his shoulder, then slowly turned back to face him. "I cannot explain how shameful it feels, for we who prize logic above all else to have that logic torn from us."

"I get that. I understand you don't like not being in control. I think I understand now that that’s why you've been holding back all along, am I right?"

"That is essentially correct, yes."

"Then would it help you to know I actually find it hot as hell?" At Spock's skeptical eyebrow, he amended, "Okay, so I would prefer you recognized me while you were at it, but seriously, the mind meld thing? That was the hottest thing ever. Why have you never done that before?"

Spock looked appalled. "It is not something to be undertaken lightly."

"No," Kirk agreed. Actually, he supposed it was an intimate as it was possible to get, and the fact that he felt thrilled rather than terrified by that thought gave him the courage to add, "But I'm not undertaking this," he gestured between them, "lightly, either."

Spock gave him a wary look. "To my knowledge, you have never indicated any desire for anything more than casual intercourse with anyone."

"True," Kirk allowed. "And I'll grant you this is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you, but I'm indicating it now. If you're willing."

"I do not understand."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "I'm saying I'm in love with you, you moron."

Spock just stared at him, eyes widened in evident shock. Kirk was equally shocked to hear his own words, but he forced himself not to retract them, as difficult as that was in the awkward silence that stretched out between them.

When Kirk could stand the silence no more, he gestured towards the door. "If I'm offending you, you're welcome to leave."

Spock didn't even flinch. A strange calm seemed to settle over him, rendering his expression entirely unreadable. He approached Kirk slowly, in silence, and paused just an arm's length away. His brow was furrowed in thought, and his gaze intense. He opened his mouth as though to say something, but caught himself. Spock repeated this a few times, and then, quite without warning, descended on him, and kissed him with all the ferocity of his unspoken words, and somehow, that was enough.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Problems continue in the Vulcan colony, but bureaucracy pulls the _Enterprise_ away for a routine diplomatic mission. Because missions are ever 'routine'…

"You want me to go play nice at some welcome party when we're on the brink of all-out war?"

Kirk waited impatiently for the delayed transmission, which brought with it Komack's frowning face and flat tone. "This planet is of strategic importance. You will depart with all due haste."

The Admiral's tone brooked no argument. Kirk grumbled his acknowledgement before flicking the vidscreen off and heaving a resigned sigh. He drummed his fingers on the table and frowned at the empty screen, which now showed only his reflection, his furrowed brow casting his eyes in shadow.

He was busily engaged in a staring contest with himself when he was startled to attention by the high-pitched whistle of the intercom. He flicked the switch and mumbled, "Kirk here."

There was a pause, then the nervous voice of the Beta-shift communications officer announced, "Your presence is requested planetside, Captain."

"Understood, Kirk out."

Kirk lingered a moment longer, scowled at his reflection, and made his way towards the transporter room. He hesitated as he passed the door of Spock's vacant quarters, and a smile began to tug at his lips.

Walking still caused him some discomfort, but it was not unpleasant. On the contrary, it gave him a thrill to be able to feel the evidence of what had transpired the day before. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel alien breath hot on the back of his neck, and the dull ache as Spock thrust inside him.

Kirk shook himself to attention and moved on, casting furtive glances up and down the thankfully deserted corridor. He mentally berated himself for the lapse; how could he hope to keep order on a ship of over four hundred crew if he was spotted outside his first officer's door with a noticeable erection?

He was still flustered when he beamed down to the surface of the Vulcan colony, but he covered it with an easy smile. The planet's surface seemed almost monochromatic, with the muted tones of the sandy ground echoed in the temporary structures around him and even in the preferred clothing of the Vulcan inhabitants. It was this, Kirk insisted to himself, which guided his attention immediately to a figure in the distance clad in a bright blue shirt.

Although Kirk's arrival was unannounced, Spock's head snapped up as though his name had been called. Struggling to appear nonchalant, Kirk made his way over, unconsciously smiling at those he passed and amused by the way they averted their eyes from the obscenity of his expression.

As he drew closer, he realized that Spock was surrounded by a group of the Elders he had rescued from Vulcan, Sarek among them. Kirk's eyes automatically drifted around, seeking out the older Spock, but he was nowhere to be seen. Kirk told himself he wasn't disappointed.

It wasn't until he reached his Spock's side that he realized there was something wrong. He couldn't put his finger on how he knew; Spock's posture was rigid and his brow slightly creased in a frown, but that was almost always true to some degree. The Elders were talking in Vulcan, and Kirk could catch only a smattering of words, most of those common conjunctions and verbs that offered no context. Yet though they spoke in calm, even tones, each in their turn and without interruptions, Kirk knew that they were arguing; it was evident from the barely-visible signs of frustration in Spock's stance, the way his eyes darted between them.

"Mr. Spock," said Kirk in his most commanding voice. "Report?"

The group silenced immediately, and Spock replied, "Ambassador Spock has departed for Starbase Three to meet an envoy from Betazed."

Before Kirk could respond, T'Pau cut in, her voice cold. "This interference is not welcome."

Kirk had to call on every bit of his diplomatic training not to heave an exasperated sigh. How, in the face of all the evidence of recent months – not to mention any number of incidents they had doubtless concealed – could they still stubbornly insist their colony had no problems? He resisted the urge to voice his thoughts, though, knowing that it would be futile, and settled instead for, “I assure you we had nothing to do with it."

T’Pau’s lips pursed even further, and she looked set to deliver a scathing retort, but then her attention was caught by something over Kirk’s shoulder. Kirk turned around, following her gaze, just in time to see the last glimmer of a transporter beam as a figure materialized in the sand. So honed were Kirk’s instincts that his phaser was drawn before he was consciously aware of the weapon held in the man’s hand. Spock, too, drew his phaser, and moments later the two red-shirted security guards who had beamed down with Spock had taken up position behind the newcomer.

Satisfied that they had him surrounded, Kirk took a step towards him. He was Vulcanoid, and looked distinctly familiar, though Kirk could not place his face.

“Drop your weapon,” Kirk commanded. “You’re surrounded.”

“And who are you, a human, to command me thus?”

“Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_.”

Slanted eyebrows rose in surprise. “So you are. Humans look so alike that I did not recognize you.” A slight quirk at the corner of his mouth betrayed a scornful smirk. Kirk opened his mouth to ask where they had met, but before he could utter a word, the Vulcan’s gaze drifted to Kirk’s right, and his expression hardened. “And of course,” he added, his voice dripping with scorn, “ _you_ would be here.”

Suddenly, it all fell into place; this had to be the Vulcan with the irrational hatred of Spock, the one who had rescued Gaila. Kirk wracked his brain for the name, but could come up with nothing.

“Stonn,” said Spock, and Kirk gave an inward smile at the wonders of the Vulcan memory. “You may relinquish your weapon; there is no threat to you here.”

“Is that what you believe, Spock?” Stonn shot back, somehow managing to make Spock’s name sound like the most profound of insults.

“It is,” Spock confirmed, unmoved.

Stonn’s gaze lingered on Spock a moment longer, then drifted across the crowds of Vulcans that had come to surround them. He kept his weapon trained on Kirk, but Kirk held his ground and motioned for the security guards to hold position.

Stonn seemed unconcerned by the four phasers aimed in his direction; when he had finished surveying the crowd, he turned his impassive look upon Kirk once more and declared, “The Vulcans were once a proud race. Are you satisfied now to cower in this corner of the Galaxy, subservient to the Federation?”

“No one is subservient to –“ Kirk began, but Stonn cut him off by raising his weapon.

“Where was the Federation,” Stonn addressed the crowd at large, “when our planet was destroyed?”

_Getting blown to smithereens trying to help you_ , Kirk thought, but he knew better than to say so out loud.

“The Federation did nothing,” Stonn continued. “And instead of seeking out those responsible, they order you to hide on this rock, your power diminished, living off handouts from an inferior race.”

To Kirk’s surprise, it was Sarek who moved; he stepped in front of his son, unarmed, and said, in a voice of utter calm, “Those responsible for Vulcan’s destruction are dead.”

“Or so _they_ would have you believe,” Stonn sneered, gesturing with his weapon towards Kirk.

Ensign Meyer took only the slightest step towards Stonn, probably only an instinctive jolt, but Stonn’s Vulcan’s senses must have caught the movement behind him, because he suddenly whirled around. As one, Kirk and Spock lunged towards him, each grasping at one arm and managing to throw him off balance sufficiently that his shot missed Meyer by the smallest of margins. Stonn shook them both off with ease, though, and slipped fluidly around. With no apparent effort, Stonn plucked the phaser from Kirk's hand and held it to his head, with Stonn's own weapon trained steadily on Spock. Kirk caught Spock’s eye, willing him not to move, and caught the same message in Spock’s reciprocal glare. Over Stonn’s shoulder, he could see Meyer staring wide-eyed at the scene, uncertainty evident in his stance, but Ensign Petrova was nowhere to be seen. Kirk silently willed her not to try anything heroic as he turned his attention back to Stonn.

"You humans are every bit as weak as I'd heard," Stonn sneered at Spock.

Kirk gave an involuntary jerk, but stilled as he felt his own phaser press harder against his temple. Under his breath, he seethed, "He's more Vulcan than you are."

Stonn's eyebrow rose slowly. "Do you suppose I will not kill you, Starfleet?"

"It would be extremely illogical," Kirk replied in an agreeable tone. "So yeah, I'm sure you will."

Stonn's eyes widened as he processed the insult. Kirk caught only a glimpse of Spock's expression of horror before he heard the unnaturally audible click of the phaser's trigger, and the bright sunshine of the Vulcan colony faded into gray. He had the distant thought that he'd always wondered how this felt, and then the sand below rose up to meet him.

*

Kirk awoke with a pounding headache. For a confused moment, he thought he was in a bar – he could hear shouting, although it sounded distant, as though heard through several closed doors – yet the heat of the sun was unmistakable on his face. With great effort, he forced an eye open, wincing in the bright light as pain seared through his head. He blinked, barely holding back an agonized groan, and hauled himself up.

Standing was difficult; it felt as though his limbs were missing a connection to his brain, and his legs kept slipping from beneath him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he choked as he realized he'd managed to swallow some sand.

Still disoriented, he turned towards the source of the shouting. Suddenly, as though a fog had lifted from his head, he saw Spock in sharp focus against a background of blurry figures. Without a thought, Kirk ran towards him; or rather, he staggered awkwardly, his sluggish movement at odds with the urgency he felt. Spock, he realized as he drew loser, was engaged in a fight with a larger man. There were others fighting, too, some in the bright primary colors of Starfleet uniform, others in the drab garb of Vulcan. Bizarrely, a whole crowd of Vulcans stood idly to one side, watching the fight with apparent disinterest.

Kirk made a beeline for Spock, but before he reached the fray, his attention was caught by a roar to his left. Kirk caught a glimpse of Sulu's startled expression as he was knocked sideways. With no time to think, Kirk simply launched himself at Sulu's attacker. His reactions still sluggish, he tripped on a rock, staggered, but managed to maintain enough momentum to leap up and deliver a flying kick to the Vulcan's shoulder. The Vulcan, startled, fell in an undignified heap while Kirk rolled across the ground and regained his feet.

"Nice move," Sulu laughed from his position on the ground.

Grinning, Kirk hauled Sulu to his feet; then they threw their combined weight at the Vulcan. He responded quickly, going straight for Kirk's neck, but Kirk was faster; he slipped neatly away, leaving the Vulcan grasping ineffectually at the neckline of his shirt. A strip from the front of his uniform tore off as easily as though it were made of paper, and while the Vulcan stared blankly at the shreds of fabric in his hand, Kirk and Sulu caught his arms, thrust a knee each into the base of his spine and forced him, groaning, to his knees.

With one hand twisting the Vulcan's arm behind his back, Sulu drew his phaser with the other, but Kirk shook his head. Sulu looked confused, but complied.

Kirk quickly scanned their surroundings. Spock had Stonn in a headlock and was going for his shoulder. Before Kirk could order him to stop, Sarek was there, pulling a still-conscious Stonn aside. Behind them, Meyer and Petrova were holding another Vulcan down while Chekov aimed a phaser at him. Uhura and Giotto were still fighting another, but the three of them stilled at the sudden silence, looking around in confusion.

Not entirely sure what was going on, Kirk turned to Spock, but looked hurriedly away when he was met by a venomous glare. Fortunately, he was saved the need to speak by Sarek. 

"We do not condone violence on this world," Sarek said to the subdued Stonn.

"Are you so far gone that you will side with Starfleet over your own people?" Stonn spat back.

"Our people," Sarek replied calmly, "are those who seek to protect that which we value, not merely those who bear the closest physical resemblance to us."

"And the rest of you?" Stonn said to the crowd who had stood passively aside since his arrival. "Are you all content to hide out here, bending to the will of humans?"

"Starfleet does not consist solely of humans," Spock corrected him.

"And what would you know of that? You have never been worthy of Vulcan."

There was such venom in his voice that Kirk was given again to wonder at the cause of his obvious enmity towards Spock, and he was almost disappointed when Stonn's tirade was cut off by Sarek tightening his hold.

"We do not hold with such bigotry here," said Sarek.

Stonn made a show of trying to struggle out of Sarek's grasp, though it looked half-hearted at best, then asked coldly, "Are all your so-called refugees held here by force?"

"No one is held here," Sarek replied. As though to demonstrate his point, he relinquished his hold on Stonn and took a step backwards. Kirk followed suit, releasing his hold on his captive, and gestured for the others to do the same. Stonn's Vulcans stood around awkwardly, waiting for a cue, but Stonn was looking around the crowd uncertainly.

"You are free to go," said another of the Elders. "And any who wish to leave with you."

Stonn looked startled at that, and it took him a moment to recover his composure. When he had, he squared his shoulders and faced the crowd. "Well?" he demanded. "Who will join with us, and be free of Federation tyranny?"

He was met with stony silence. Kirk let out a sigh of relief and relaxed, but just as it looked as though Stonn would be sent off in disgrace, a lone member of the crowd stepped forwards. A moment later, so did another, and then, as though an avalanche had been set off, more joined them, until over a dozen Vulcans stood before Stonn.

Kirk shot a panicked glance towards Sarek and the other Elders, but they remained impassive. Once the crowd had settled down, T'Pau stepped forward.

"We send thee with the blessings of Vulcan of old," she said, bowing her head.

Stonn looked as though he were at a loss for how to respond, so he simply nodded and withdrew a communicator. Before he could speak to his ship, though, one of his crew said, "I would prefer to remain behind, if that would be permitted."

T'Pau nodded her agreement, but Sarek cut in. "You would be welcomed here, of course, but we are a Federation world, and Captain Kirk is therefore within his rights to press charges for assault of Starfleet officers."

Put on the spot, Kirk had only an instant to think. He cast a quick glance around and, once assured that none of his crew had sustained serious injuries, confirmed, "I won't press charges. On this occasion."

He could almost feel the force of the glare Stonn aimed at him for that. Without a further word, Stonn barked a command into his communicator, and the rebel Vulcans dissolved from sight.

The moment they were gone, Kirk rounded on Sarek. "Why did you let them go?" he demanded.

"It would be illogical to force anyone to remain against their will," Sarek replied.

"And how is it going to help you to have them out there stirring up trouble?"

"Those who chose to leave were causing difficulties here. With their influence removed, we have a greater chance of rebuilding our society."

"I see," Kirk sighed, still troubled.

"We appreciate what you have done for us," said Sarek, "but the responsibility for managing our affairs is our own. Live long and prosper, Captain."

"Yeah," said Kirk, somewhat halfheartedly. "You too."

*

McCoy was there to meet them when they beamed back aboard, his omnipresent scowl firmly in place.

"Good to see you, too," Kirk greeted him cheerfully.

McCoy cast a meaningful glance over Kirk's tattered clothing and gave him a distinctly unimpressed look.

Kirk shrugged and raked a hand awkwardly through his hair. "See, what happened," he started to explain, but drifted off with a frown. "Actually, I don't know…" He turned around to the others for help, and saw that Spock was standing rigidly beside him, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

"What happened," said Spock tersely, not taking his eyes off the wall, "is that the captain once again demonstrated careless disregard for his own safety."

"Relax," said Kirk. "I'm fine."

Spock did not respond, but McCoy's expression softened slightly to reveal a hint of amusement. "Sickbay," he snapped. "All of you."

Kirk grumbled his protest, but complied. He was uncomfortably aware of how stiffly Spock was walking beside him, and they did not exchange a word. Once in Sickbay, McCoy worked his way between them, scanning them each in turn and muttering to himself. While Spock was being subjected to his scan, to his obvious distaste, Sulu leaned towards Kirk and muttered, "Takes his job pretty seriously, doesn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

Sulu smirked. "We got the call from Petrova that something was going down, but by the time we got there you were already unconscious. Spock was going absolutely ballistic at the guy who shot you." Sulu laughed and added with a nudge in Kirk's ribs, "Last time I saw him that angry was when he was trying to kill you."

Kirk couldn't hold back his grin; it was strange but somehow exciting to have someone be that protective of him. He wanted to know more, but was sure he would give himself away, so he did his best to feign purely professional interest as he asked, "What happened after you got there?"

Sulu shrugged. "Pretty much what you saw. More crazy Vulcans beamed down, started fighting all of us, then you joined in. That really was a nice move, by the way – you've got to teach me the flying kick thing."

Kirk just made a noncommittal sound, not wanting to admit he'd tripped on unsteady legs, but Sulu was called over by McCoy before he could press further.

Spock, once released from McCoy's clutches, moved to stand beside Kirk, so close that their shoulders almost touched, but he was silent and would not even look at him.

Gradually, each member of the landing party was dismissed, and finally it was Kirk's turn. He hopped onto the bed, presenting himself for McCoy's scrutiny, and Spock lingered close by, his posture still rigid.

"So, what did you do this time?" asked McCoy, scowling at one of the deeper cuts in Kirk's arm.

"I didn't do anything," Kirk insisted. "And leave that alone, I can't even feel it."

McCoy brushed his hand away and proceeded to apply the dermal regenerator. "So why's your Vulcan glaring daggers at you?"

Kirk didn't even try to resist the impulse to smile at the possessive term. "No idea. I thought my plan worked out quite well."

Spock's head snapped in his direction, his eyes flashing in anger. "You deliberately aggravated someone holding a phaser to your head. Is this what you describe as a 'plan'?"

"Sure," said Kirk with a shrug. "He had a weapon pointed at you, too – someone had to distract him."

"And the best distraction you could come up with was to allow yourself to be shot?"

"With my own phaser," Kirk pointed out, quite reasonably in his opinion. "Which is better than you being shot by god-knows-what.” He paused, and then, realizing the problem, added, “You knew my phaser was set to stun, right?"

Spock met his eyes with a steely glare. "And you are aware that a stun setting, applied at close range to the brain, can kill?"

Kirk's retort died in his throat. "No," he mumbled, glancing guiltily away. "I didn't know that."

Kirk's admission was met by stony silence. McCoy was staring at him incredulously, and Spock still looked dangerously impassive. Kirk offered them both an apologetic smile.

"No one else would get away with half of what you manage," McCoy grumbled, shaking his head in exasperation.

Spock, though, said nothing; he glared at Kirk a moment longer, then he turned away and all but fled.

"You sure got him rattled," McCoy remarked once Spock was gone.

"Yeah," Kirk grinned.

"It's kind of sweet, really," said Chapel from behind him, causing him to jump at the realization that they weren't alone. 

The look McCoy gave her was comical in its mixture of disgust and incredulity, but Kirk's punishment for laughing was a swift hypo in the neck. Kirk leapt up from the bed, spluttering in indignation. "Sadistic bastard," he muttered.

"Crybaby," McCoy retorted.

Chapel's high-pitched laughter caused them both to turn glares on her. She smiled fondly at them and asked, "Is that your way of making up?"

Suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable, Kirk gave a snort of disgust and looked away, deliberately avoiding McCoy's eyes.

"Don't you have work to do?" McCoy snapped.

Chapel laughed, but left them alone, where they stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Kirk remarked, "You are a bastard, you know."

"I know. And you're insane."

"Yep," Kirk agreed.

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence in which they avoided looking at one another. When he could stand it no longer, Kirk said, "Spock decided to stay with us."

"So I gather." McCoy scowled, but Kirk was relieved to see it lacked any real venom. "I might have to set him straight on a few things. Does he know you leave your underwear strewn all over the floor? And leave cups lying around with things growing in them?"

Kirk made a face at him. "You destroyed a whole civilization when you cleaned that cup."

"You also snore."

"Do not. Anyway, he's not perfect. He's a blanket hog, for one thing."

McCoy gave an incredulous snort and shoved Kirk towards the door. "Get out, before you have me reaching for the brain bleach."

Kirk shot him a wicked grin. "On the other hand, I've learned some awesome uses for telepathy."

McCoy's eyes went wide, and Kirk ducked out of Sickbay quickly, before McCoy could recover himself enough to throw anything.

Walking down Deck Five, Kirk was grinning so broadly that passing crewmembers stopped in their tracks, staring incredulously at him. Realizing he was still clad in the shreds of his tattered shirt, he assumed a stern expression and met their habitual salutes with a stiffly formal, "As you were."

The crew dispersed rapidly amid thinly concealed laughter, and Kirk ruefully decided their departure could wait until he'd changed his shirt.

*

As soon as the door to Kirk's quarters began to slide open, he sensed that something was amiss; he could feel the tension before he even caught sight of Spock waiting in the opposite corner of the room. A good-natured jibe about the appropriateness of breaking into the captain's quarters died on his lips when he saw the expression on Spock's face. It was more a lack of an expression, really, but the careful blankness indicating tenuously maintained composure was downright frightening. Kirk held up his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture, but before he could say anything, Spock had crossed the room and shoved him back against the wall.

This close, it was even more apparent how tense Spock was; he was breathing heavily, his pupils were dilated and the vein in his temple throbbed. Kirk was hopelessly turned on. When Spock pinned his hands against the wall, he deliberately entwined their fingers and bucked his hips against Spock's. He half-expected to be thrown across the room in anger, but to his disbelief Spock responded by insinuating his leg between Kirk's thighs and grinding against him. Kirk threw his head back against the wall and let out a long, guttural groan.

It was warm in his quarters, especially with the heat of Spock's body so close, but even so, Kirk gave an involuntary shiver as Spock removed the remnants of his shirt. Spock's eyes were dark, so tantalizing in their focus that Kirk was utterly captivated. Spock bent his head down, kissing Kirk's neck and scraping teeth over his collarbone while his hands fumbled with the fastenings of Kirk's uniform trousers. Kirk wriggled out of them, toed off his shoes and kicked his trousers aside, feeling hopelessly awkward in comparison with the elegant and seamless way Spock whipped off his own clothing.

Kirk couldn't recall ever seeing Spock casually toss his uniform aside, and the sight of it aroused him no end. The moment they were rid of their clothes, they snapped together like magnets, Spock pushing Kirk against the wall and biting on the curve of his ear. Spock's hands slid down Kirk's sides to his thighs, lifting him with inhuman strength. Kirk braced himself against the wall, arms around Spock's shoulders, and wrapped his legs around Spock's waist. Spock made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl, deep and primal and so unlike his usually calm self. Kirk felt the sound reverberate throughout his body, and he was utterly undone; there was nothing that could render him as helpless as the small signs of Spock's tenuous grip on his control.

Spock was visibly shaking. He went for Kirk's neck, biting just hard enough to leave a mark, and then took them both in hand and set up a frantic rhythm. Trapped between the wall and Spock's powerful frame, all Kirk could do was buck helplessly, clinging to Spock's shoulders as heat swept through his body.

There was something so unique about Spock's hands, so firm but not exactly rough, deft and so precise. Hovering distantly around that thought, Kirk reached for Spock's spare hand and lifted it to his lips. At the first swipe of his tongue, Spock made a strangled sound, and when he took two fingers into his mouth, Spock simultaneously squeezed his cock and bit down on his shoulder so hard it caused him to cry out. Spock mumbled an apology, but the instantaneous pain was already fading into prickling pleasure.

Kirk sucked enthusiastically at Spock's fingers, working his tongue around them and delighting in the way it made Spock shudder. He was so focused on the task that he groaned in protest when Spock withdrew his fingers, but then he felt Spock's hand slip under his thigh. His groan became an incoherent murmur of encouragement, and he gasped as Spock's long fingers found his ass. Still tender from the day before, it twitched at the contact, but surrendered easily to the press of two fingers. It felt incredible; Spock knew exactly where to aim to wring the greatest pleasure from him, and knowing how sensitive Spock's hands were, knowing that he would feel it to his core every time Kirk clenched around him, only enhanced the experience even further.

Kirk arched his back, almost whimpering at the onslaught of Spock's hand on his erection and the matching rhythm of fingers thrusting inside him. His blood ran hot and heavy in his veins, and his head felt sluggish and hazy. When he inhaled deeply, he caught the scent of Spock's hair, infused with the scent of the Vulcan colony and bringing with it a memory so vivid he could almost feel Spock in his head.

The faltering of Spock's tireless rhythm and the hitching of his ragged breathing betrayed that he was close to the edge. Kirk gripped his shoulders and clenched around his fingers, and Spock shuddered and gasped as wetness spilled between them.

Still trembling, Spock leaned his forehead against Kirk's shoulder and said, "You are – not – expendable."

With that, Kirk bucked into Spock's hand and convulsed as his orgasm tore through him. His arms and legs wrapped around Spock's body, he held on tightly, gasping for breath, his head reeling.

He felt like such an idiot. He tried to imagine how he would feel if their positions had been reversed, and he'd had to watch as Spock was shot, and came up empty. The sudden wave of protectiveness that overcame him was terrifying, and the thought that Spock might feel the same way was even more so.

With a heavy sigh, Kirk buried his face in Spock's hair and murmured, "I'm sorry."

They remained like that a moment longer, and then Spock stepped back and lowered him carefully to the ground, Kirk wincing in pain as he straightened his legs out. Only then, and for the first time since the incident with Stonn, did Spock kiss him. It was gentle, almost tentative, a world away from their frenzied coupling.

It was strange, how different it felt now. They'd been doing this, on and off, for the best part of half a year, yet suddenly it felt new. Kirk sought out the taste of Spock as though it was not something he was already accustomed to, focused on their entwined fingers as though the action was not well practiced. He ran his free hand up and down Spock's back, marveling in the alien heat that was concentrated on his spine.

Kirk's head was spinning by the time they finally broke apart. He stood there, grinning stupidly, while Spock cleaned himself up and dressed.

"I only came in here for a shirt," Kirk mused aloud.

Spock, already looking as unnaturally pristine as ever, cast a critical eye over Kirk, taking in his sweat-dampened skin, his half-hard cock still twitching, and then glanced meaningfully at the torn remnants of his shirt scattered over the floor. He slowly lifted his eyebrow and said, "May I suggest you delegate any immediate duties?"

Kirk felt color rise to his cheeks. He ran a hand through his damp hair in a fruitless attempt to calm it, but it was clear he couldn't return to duty without a thorough shower. "Sure," he sighed. "Go and get them to set a course for 82 Eridani III, and I'll be there in ten minutes."

Spock nodded, but then hesitated in the act of turning for the door. "That system…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," said Kirk, wincing at the realization that they hadn't discussed this yet. "It's – or it was – close to Vulcan."

"Indeed, although that is irrelevant now."

"You know something else about it?"

"Much," Spock agreed, with the hint of a smile in his eyes. "It orbits a G-type star, and thus bears many similarities to Earth. The planet is populated by a humanoid race with somewhat hedonistic tendencies, hence its relations with Vulcan were strained. Nonetheless, the planet was recently accepted into the Federation, which I presume to be the precursor to our visit."

"Yep," Kirk agreed. "Standard diplomatic greeting stuff." He'd assumed it would be dull when Komack had outlined the mission, but the Admiral had neglected to mention anything about the culture being hedonistic; perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. Spock looked distinctly uneasy, though. "You know, you can always stay on the ship if it's going to bother you."

"That will not be necessary," Spock assured him. "I suspect the _Enterprise_ was chosen for this mission in part to demonstrate Vulcans' acceptance of them."

"You're probably right," Kirk agreed, but then he paused as something occurred to him. "Only," he added, "they thought you'd resigned. I dealt with that first, but our next mission had already been assigned." 

"May I ask how you explained that situation to Starfleet?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that," Kirk grinned. "You'd have been really proud of me – I just told them the truth." At Spock's raised eyebrow, he amended, "Okay, not the _whole_ truth. You were suffering from an illness unique to Vulcans which proves fatal if untreated, but yours was one of the cases that was curable and so you're back on board."

"And they accepted this?"

"Yep, turns out the paperwork hadn't been put through yet, and since deleting some files is easier than actually putting through that paperwork, they were all for it."

Kirk chose not to mention just how relieved Pike had been at the news, or the way Kirk had almost given everything away by thanking him profusely for pairing them up in the first place. What to do if the Admiralty found out was something they'd probably have to discuss eventually, but not yet.

"I see," said Spock, a minute frown creasing his brow.

Kirk fidgeted, discomfited by Spock's unease which was so at odds with his own jubilant mood. He waited for Spock to explain, the silence growing ever more uncomfortable, until he could stand it no more and prompted, “Well? What’s wrong?”

“Perhaps nothing.” Spock looked away briefly, then met his eyes with a calculating gaze. “Yet the thought occurs that we appear to be, as the humans say, going in circles, and always within a relatively small radius of our point of origin.”

It certainly didn’t feel that way, Kirk thought; if anything the mission so far had been an extended lesson in just how _far_ everything was. If he thought about it, though, it was true that they’d never been further than a few dozen light years from Earth, and the purpose of five-year missions was supposed to be to allow the exploration of the more distant parts of the Galaxy. “You think they’re keeping us on too short a leash?” he surmised.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Kirk moved towards Spock, slipped an arm around his waist and leaned up to nip at an earlobe. “You analyze too much,” he chided fondly.

Spock made a low growl of protest, but as Kirk began to trace his tongue up the edge of his ear, he obligingly leaned into the touch. Encouraged, Kirk slipped a hand under the hem of Spock’s shirt, caressing heated skin as his tongue sought out the curve of Spock’s ear. As his teeth grazed over the pointed tip, Spock suddenly jerked away.

“I believe you gave me an order,” Spock said in a voice that was gratifyingly flustered.

“I could give you another one?” Kirk suggested with a lascivious smirk.

Spock fixed him with a gaze so heated it sent instant spikes of lust straight to his groin. It lasted only a moment, though, and then the mask of professionalism was firmly in place. Kirk relented with a heavy sigh and gestured for the door, but as he watched Spock leave, his head was still spinning.

*

Whenever Kirk thought he’d got the hang of the distances involved in interstellar travel, his illusions were shattered by the next course calculation.

“Three _weeks_?”

“Aye, Keptin,” Chekov confirmed.

“But we’re only going down the road!”

Chekov gave a helpless shrug and turned to Sulu for support, but the helmsman was too busy biting back laughter to add anything. Chekov huffed indignantly and turned instead to Spock, who slowly turned his chair around and confirmed, “Ensign Chekov’s calculation is correct, Captain.”

“I’m not doubting your math,” Kirk rushed to assure Chekov. “But it has to take three weeks?”

“Negative,” said Spock. “The projected travel time is four hundred and ninety-nine point three hours.”

“So… three weeks.”

“Two weeks, six days and nineteen-point-three hours.”

“Three weeks, then.”

Spock arched his eyebrow. “Perhaps you should visit Doctor McCoy, Captain. Your aural sensitivity appears to have been compromised.”

Kirk leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and fixed his gaze upon the viewscreen. “No need, Mr. Spock. I assure you, my oral sensitivity is just fine.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Spock’s eyebrow climb even higher. He was just congratulating himself on managing to throw Spock off-balance when he caught a distinct nudge between Sulu and Chekov. Horrified, he snapped into his command persona.

“Take us out, Mr. Sulu.”

“Aye, sir.”

Sulu was definitely smiling to himself as he prepared to take them to warp. Kirk pretended not to notice, but it was harder to ignore Spock. He kept finding his eyes drifting over to the science station, drawn as though by a magnet to the enticing point of Spock's ear.

When he tired of pretending to read fuel consumption reports, he rose from his chair and began to pace the bridge. He made an effort to make his movements appear random, but he was inexorably drawn towards Spock. He lingered behind Spock's chair, watching as his hands deftly controlled the computer. The thought of where those hands had been only a short time ago made Kirk shudder.

"Captain," said Spock in a low voice. "You should look at these readings."

Concerned, Kirk shook off his inappropriate train of thought. "What's wrong?"

Spock gestured towards the scanner, and Kirk leaned over, laying a hand on Spock's shoulder. There was something bright in the center of the field of view, a star so brilliant it drowned everything else out.

Kirk straightened up, but didn't remove his hand from Spock's shoulder. "What is it?"

"Unknown. The light curve and Balmer absorption lines indicate a Type II supernova…"

"Dangerous?"

"Negative. It is too far away, and its system contains no life forms."

"Okay." Kirk frowned and drummed his fingers on Spock's shoulder. Was he missing something, or had Spock really intended to share nothing more than a pretty picture? When Spock did not look as though he intended to explain, Kirk finally relented and prodded, "So why's it interesting?"

Spock turned his head to face him, his eyebrow raised. "A supernova within the Milky Way is a sufficiently rare occurrence to be interesting in its own right. In this specific case, however, it exhibits peculiar properties. While the spectrum is indicative of a Type II supernova, its progenitor has previously been measured to have insufficient mass for that to be the case."

Kirk froze, suddenly realizing where Spock was going with this. "Like the Hobus star," he concluded, his voice flat.

"Indeed. Although,” Spock’s eyebrows drew together as his long fingers idly traced the data displayed on his console, “it is no more powerful than any other supernova. Certainly insufficient to have any notable impact on a system as distant as Romulus is from Hobus.” 

"A test?" Kirk suggested.

Spock inclined his head in that manner which, for him, approximated a shrug. “Unknown. I believe it would be wise to acquire further data."

"Of course." Kirk took a step back and gestured towards the turbolift. "Knock yourself out."

Spock rose slowly, a distinct frown on his face. "That is an illogical suggestion."

"Yep," Kirk grinned, by now quite sure that Spock only pretended not to understand English idioms.

Kirk was still grinning as Spock left the bridge. As he turned to return to the captain's chair, he caught Uhura's eye and she looked away, shaking her head and smiling.

*

“It’s not a replicator, it’s an imitator, and a poor one at that. This sludge doesn’t even _resemble_ coffee.”

Kirk tuned out McCoy’s rant as Spock entered the mess hall. He looked absolutely perfect, his hair so neat it clung to his head and his uniform smartly pressed. All Kirk had to do was walk out the door for his uniform to develop wrinkles, but Spock somehow managed to emerge even from fights looking as though he was straight from the trouser press.

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy grumbled under his breath, “he’s a Vulcan, not a dessert.”

Kirk snapped his attention back to his breakfast, heat rising to his cheeks. “Drink your coffee, Bones.”

“It’s not coffee.”

Kirk’s attention drifted back across the room, where Spock was standing beside a table engaging in conversation with Gaila. Kirk frowned; Gaila was as discreet as an atomic bomb and almost as dangerous. He squinted, looking for any hint of irritation in Spock’s stance, but the small deviations in his posture that betrayed his emotions were too subtle to read at this distance.

“If she’s not giving away your little secret then your staring’ll do the trick,” McCoy remarked.

“’M not staring,” Kirk grumbled, glaring at his plate.

"Whatever you say."

"Have you asked Christine out yet?" Kirk asked in a lame attempt to change the subject.

It had the desired effect; McCoy almost choked on his coffee. "What the hell gave you that idea?"

"You spend most of your time with her."

"That doesn't automatically lead to sex. I'm not you, remember?"

"Ah," Kirk grinned. "So she turned you down?"

McCoy scowled at him, but then admitted, "Yeah. Apparently she's got some scientist guy on hold."

"That sucks."

McCoy shrugged, but then his eyes narrowed and he peered at Kirk suspiciously over his coffee cup. "You've never shown any interest in my love life before."

Kirk tried to look innocent, but he had to concede that much was true. "Yeah, well, if I'm not in the game any more then I have to live vicariously."

McCoy looked as though he were about to say something, but stopped himself. They sat in silence for a while, McCoy glaring at his coffee-like substance so fiercely that Kirk could almost hear the disgruntled monologue running in his head.

"Go on," Kirk sighed. "Spit it out."

McCoy shook his head with an exaggerated grimace. "I just don't get it. You're really giving up women for that – I mean, for him?"

Kirk decided to overlook the slip, but his voice was firm and unyielding as he confirmed, "Really."

"But Jim, the guy marooned you. I was there – he didn't even pretend it was a difficult decision."

"So? Imagine Earth was suddenly wiped out. How tolerant would you be of mutinous cadets?" Kirk took a gulp of McCoy's coffee and winced at the taste. "It's sweet that you care so much, though.”

McCoy snatched his cup back and batted Kirk's hand away. "Worst thing about being a starship doctor," he grumbled. "You're supposed to take professional interest in the health of a bunch of maniacs who take no care for their own lives."

"Uh huh, professional interest," Kirk teased. "Whatever."

McCoy glowered at him, but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he jerked his head towards Spock and asked, “So is it pity?” 

“No!” Kirk exclaimed, horrified.

McCoy shrugged, but kept his eyes fixed intently on Kirk, his gaze betraying intense curiosity. After a moment’s silence, he prompted, “So what is it?”

Kirk took another bite of his omelet to delay his response. They had never discussed this in a civil manner, and Kirk would have been quite happy for it never to come up. It felt distinctly awkward, after the way McCoy had reacted to finding out, not to mention that this simply wasn’t the kind of thing they talked about in any circumstances. Meaningless leering, sure, but Kirk had only just accepted that this was more serious than any of his previous dalliances.

“I don’t know,” Kirk said lamely when the silence had become too heavy. “I didn’t exactly plan on it.”

McCoy scowled at his coffee. “I guess it’s not so surprising,” he grudgingly allowed. “You’ve been fascinated with him since day one.”

“Have not.”

McCoy just gave him an incredulous look, not even bothering to argue the point. Kirk said nothing; he genuinely had no idea what McCoy was talking about, but based on how things had turned out, he had little doubt that it was true. He glanced across the room, where Spock was rising from the table and looking over toward them.

“You’ve changed, kid,” McCoy sighed. Just as Kirk was about to protest, he added, “Which I suppose is damned lucky for everyone on this ship.”

*

Kirk caught up with Gaila later that day, in a thankfully deserted server room. The heat of all the computers packed into such a confined space was balanced by an icy draught from the environmental control system, resulting in the strange feeling of sweating on one side while his other side shivered.

"Can't right now," Gaila called from behind a stack of servers as he closed the door behind him. "Meet me in Storage Room C in twenty minutes?"

"You need a hand?" Kirk suggested.

"Oh!" Gaila appeared from behind the computers, brushing her dress down. "Sorry, thought you were someone else."

Kirk gave her what he hoped was a suitably disapproving look, but said nothing; he was hardly one to judge someone for meeting up with crewmembers for illicit trysts. One of the greatest perks of captaincy, though, was private quarters that removed the need to acquaint himself with Storage Room C.

"Are you busy?" he asked.

Gaila shrugged. "Nah, just killing time. What's up?"

Kirk decided to get straight to the point. "Have you been harassing Spock?" She looked genuinely confused, so he clarified, "I saw you talking to him at breakfast this morning."

Gaila gave her usual lascivious smile, but Kirk noticed she avoided meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well," she said. "Just want to know what the fuss is about."

"Just… don’t, okay?"

Gaila crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a distinctly unimpressed look. "You his protector now?"

"Look," Kirk sighed. "It's one thing for you to flirt with me, or any other human for that matter, but Spock's not like us."

"He seems to cope with you," she pointed out.

Kirk shrugged, thinking of his conversation with McCoy. "Well, I guess I've changed."

"Not that much, you haven't."

Gaila turned away, making a show of getting back to work. Kirk recognized it as a clear dismissal and returned to the bridge, not quite sure why he felt so uncomfortable.

*

Spock had spent the previous evening in the astro lab. Assuming he would do the same again, Kirk had settled down for the evening with a stack of reports open on his computer terminal.

Nonetheless, he felt a thrill when the buzzer to his quarters sounded, though that was dampened when he realized that Spock had long given up asking permission to enter his quarters. Of all the alternatives he might have expected, though, Uhura was not among them. He did a lousy job of concealing his surprise, but she was polite enough to pretend not to notice.

"Are you busy?" she asked, hovering in the doorway.

Kirk glanced at the report he was reading, something to do with widget supplies, and shrugged. "Nothing that can't wait," he said, gesturing to the chair.

She was quiet for a moment after taking her seat. Kirk waited for her to gather her thoughts, curious to know what he could possibly have done this time, and idly wondering whether he was to blame for the replicators' coffee.

He was surprised, then, when the first thing she said was, "What do you think of the Vulcan colony?"

Kirk briefly considered keeping to the official line, before reasoning to himself (and the Pike in his head) that she'd only see through it anyway. "Kind of a disaster, to be honest," he admitted. "I wish we were staying there instead of being shipped off on some diplomatic mission." Uhura's eyebrows shot up towards her hairline, so he hurriedly added, "Not that you heard me say so, of course."

"Of course," she smiled. She took a deep breath, her brow creasing in a frown. "They seem to think their problems are over."

"They're not," Kirk agreed. "But there's nothing we can do – we have our orders."

She looked uncharacteristically furtive. "What do you think of Stonn?"

Kirk really wasn't sure. He clearly had issues, but then who wouldn't, in his situation? "I don't know," he admitted. "He's odd, and he really doesn't like Spock for some reason, but whether he's dangerous, who knows?"

"But you think he could be?"

"Why do you ask?" Kirk asked suspiciously.

She bit her lip as though debating whether to say something, but gradually a familiar steely determination settled over her face. "Do you remember when we rescued them?" Kirk nodded, and she continued, "I helped Gaila install a new communications system. So the one they have is essentially the same as ours. Even the encryption system." She paused and took a deep breath. "Earlier today, I accidentally picked up one of their transmissions."

Kirk decided not to press her on exactly how 'accidental' that may have been, and simply asked, "What were they saying?"

"Nothing interesting, they were just docking at a Starbase. The point is just that I do, sometimes, accidentally pick things up, so…"

"Starfleet wouldn't approve of spying on civilians," Kirk mused aloud.

"It's not spying if I don't intend to hear it," she pointed out.

"We should probably hand it over to the Vulcans."

"Perhaps, but –"

Uhura cut herself off as the door slid open, and looked surprised when Spock entered without buzzing. If Spock was surprised to see her there, he didn't show it.

"I thought you'd be in the astro lab all night again," Kirk said, making no attempt to conceal his smile.

"As did I." Spock acknowledged Uhura with a polite nod and moved to stand by Kirk's side. Kirk instinctively reached for his hand, and was both pleased and surprised when Spock chastely touched their fingers together. "The supernova's light curve decayed in just twenty-three hours," Spock explained.

"That's great," said Kirk.

"On the contrary, it is most irregular," Spock corrected him. "The astrophysics department is continuing to investigate, and I have compiled a preliminary report."

"Efficient as ever, Mr. Spock," said Kirk with a fond smile. "And you have good timing; we were just discussing Stonn. What do you make of him?"

Spock's expression darkened and Kirk could feel him tense even through their very light contact. "In what respect?" he asked in a stiff voice.

Kirk inwardly cringed; he'd managed to forget that Stonn had shot him. "Do you think he's dangerous?"

Spock looked as though he could kill the guy without a second thought, but with evident restraint, he said, "Negative."

"Really?" said Uhura, echoing the surprise Kirk felt.

"Indeed, I discussed him and his crew at length with Gaila this morning. She spent a year on their ship, and described each of them in favorable terms. Based on her account, I do not believe they will return to the colony."

Kirk's heart sank. Was that really all Spock and Gaila had been talking about, and if so why would Gaila suggest otherwise? Was he being a jerk for assuming her interest in him was sexual? But then, why would she discuss this with Spock and not with him?

He was so distracted that he completely missed Spock and Uhura having a conversation over his head. His attention only returned to the present when he noticed her get up to leave, and even then he only managed a distant, "Goodnight."

Once they were alone, Spock sat down across the desk from him and said, "Would you be amenable to a game of chess?"

Kirk agreed, and for a while they played in silence, until some time later, Spock remarked, "You are anxious."

Kirk thought about it for a moment, and decided to address the obvious topic. "I didn't expect you to be so forgiving of Stonn."

Spock's brow furrowed. "I learned something of his motivation from Gaila. It seems he often spoke of a woman, one who perished with Vulcan. She bore the same name as the one to whom I was betrothed."

Kirk paused halfway through making his move, rolling his rook between thumb and forefinger. "You think she was…?" he trailed off, unsure whether 'cheating' was the appropriate term, but realizing that even if it was, Spock was in no position to judge.

"It is possible that it is a coincidence," said Spock. "However…"

"It would explain why he hates you so much," Kirk filled in.

"Indeed."

Kirk made his move and then sat back, frowning. It took him a moment to realize that Spock was paying no attention to the board, and was instead regarding him carefully.

"Only a short time ago, I would not have comprehended his reaction," Spock admitted after a lengthy pause. "Yet I, too, felt anger at those who destroyed our planet. And I would have killed him without a second thought had you proven to be hurt."

Kirk was so startled by the admission that he had no idea what to say. Instead, he reached across the table and clasped Spock's hand, lacing their fingers together in a manner he belatedly realized was downright erotic. Spock noticed, to judge by the way his eyebrow shot up, so Kirk gave up on discretion and jerked his head towards the bed in invitation.

Kirk was sure he would deny it, but Spock's lips twitched just a fraction. "In due course," he said. "Checkmate in three moves."

"In your dreams," Kirk laughed. He returned his attention to the game, still clasping Spock's hand, and for the time being he completely forgot what he'd been worried about.

*

One of the best parts of his job, Kirk thought, was being able to select who was included in each landing party. It was fun when they had exciting missions – he loved making some ensign’s day by letting them know they’d been selected to accompany the captain – but it was doubly rewarding when it came to excruciating diplomatic missions.

“There is absolutely no reason for me to go on this mission,” McCoy grumbled in the transporter room, tugging at the collar of his loathed dress uniform.

“You’re the CMO,” Kirk replied breezily. “We have to demonstrate how important this planet’s admission to the Federation is by introducing them to our most senior officers.”

“Bullshit. You just enjoy making me wear dress uniform.”

“Aw, sweetie, but you look so good in it!” Gaila beamed. She really did look good in hers; Kirk was beginning to have serious doubts about including her in this mission. His intention had been to demonstrate the diversity of Starfleet, and Gaila was the only Orion on board, but he wondered if he should have chosen the Andorian anthropologist instead.

Scotty and Uhura completed the landing party. Scotty was the only one likely to appreciate the mission; dress uniform was no deterrent when there was good food to be had. Uhura, he had chosen when Spock mentioned that she was becoming frustrated with being a “glorified telephone operator,” as she put it. The language of Iliev, as the natives referred to 82 Eridani III, was not one she had studied. That she also pulled off the uniform was, Kirk insisted to himself, purely a happy coincidence.

And, of course, there was Spock. A huge mistake, Kirk could see already; just the sight of Spock in dress uniform had him half-hard, a state which his pants did nothing to conceal.

The coordinates they were given to beam into took them to a wide, open area inside a vast glass building. It reminded Kirk of a shuttleport back home, with signposts in various languages and huge boards displaying lists that he assumed were arrivals and departures. A public address system blared out, but the echoes of the building rendered its content indecipherable even with the aid of the universal translator. Some things, it seemed, were constant throughout the galaxy.

They were greeted by three officials in long, black robes. They were humanoid, but on the sides of their bald heads, just forward of their pointed ears, were additional eyes. Kirk had the fleeting thought that it must suck to have these guys as teachers when you wanted to screw around in class.

One of them stepped forward, a tall, slender woman with silver embroidery on her robes that Kirk presumed denoted leadership. She had large brown eyes facing forward, but the eyes at her temples were black. Kirk found her disconcerting – he didn’t know where to look – but he assumed his most charming smile and stepped forward to bow in the manner the briefing documents had described. She introduced herself as Lenta, and all four of her eyes seemed to bore into Kirk when she bowed to him.

It was, as it turned out, a fairly standard diplomatic function. They were taken to a vast hall, where a central podium was ringed by a huge table, seating a dignitary from each of the planet’s fifty-five nations. Kirk plastered a smile in place as he was introduced to each one of them in turn, and was forced to introduce his party over and over again. By the time he reached the fifth dignitary, he was beginning to wish he’d brought a smaller landing party. By the fifteenth, his face was aching with the effort of smiling so much. By the fortieth, he was longing for a phaser to end it all.

Once he was finally done with the pleasantries, he was ready to settle down to some serious drinking. Instead, he was gestured towards the podium, where fifty-five sets of four eyes waited eagerly for some rousing speech.

Kirk had seen enough Federation propaganda events to know the drill; he gave the spiel about strength in unity and talked about what the different worlds of the Federation offered each other. He even worked in a few remarks about specific nations of Iliev, with a nod to the relevant representative.

It was, he thought, a masterful display, and when he took his place with his crew to listen to a speech from some minister for something-or-other, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“I don’t know why everyone thought you’d suck at diplomatic missions,” Uhura muttered under her breath. “You could bullshit for Earth.”

His grin never faltering, Kirk hissed back, “You’re not the only one with a talented tongue.”

The evening progressed smoothly enough, though it was even more boring than Kirk had feared. The food was bland, conversation stilted, and there wasn’t even alcohol to take the edge off – apparently it had no physiological effect on the locals, and Lenta had expressed confusion when he explained the concept, confused as to why humans would choose to deliberately poison themselves.

“I have often asked the same question,” said Spock dryly. “I have yet to receive a satisfactory response.”

All in all, Kirk had to wonder where the hell Spock had got the idea this culture was remotely “hedonistic,” as he’d put it.

He got his answer when Spock excused himself, and Lenta leaned forward, fixed him with all four of her eyes and said, “I believe it is time for intercourse now.”

Kirk froze; obviously his universal translator was faulty. “I’m sorry?” he said.

“Sexual intercourse,” she said, with the matter-of-fact tone Kirk might consider more appropriate to the offering of tea. “I have a room for the purpose just upstairs.”

“I see.” Kirk thought quickly; he was sure he’d read the briefing documents thoroughly, but there had been nothing like this in there. “The thing is, I’m really flattered, but, er, not interested. I’m sorry if I led you on.”

As he spoke, he cast an appraising glance over her. She was stunning, all smooth curves and soft, flawless dark skin and wide eyes. Not to mention, he’d discovered he had a bit of a thing for pointed ears. Yet he felt not a single twinge of regret at having to turn her down.

“I do not understand,” she said. “What do you mean by ‘not interested’?”

Okay, Kirk thought, it was making more sense now; he’d spent enough time with Gaila to understand that not every culture thought of sex as such a ridiculously big deal as humans did. Perhaps it was the equivalent of refusing a handshake.

“The thing is,” he explained, “where I come from, we – well, some of us, not all – only have one sexual partner at a time.”

“I am familiar with the concept,” said Lenta. “But it was said, in the document we were all sent about your culture, that your kind signal unavailability by the wearing of a metal band about the second ulnar finger of the left hand.”

“That’s true,” Kirk agreed. “If we’re married. But it’s also possible to be not married, but still be… spoken for.”

“I understand,” she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. “So how do you tell if another is available?”

“Er,” Kirk considered that. “You can't, really. It’s complicated. Usually you have to ask.”

“How inconvenient.”

“Yeah,” Kirk agreed, “it is.”

Lenta looked around the room, and Kirk followed her gaze towards Spock, who was on the other side of the room conversing with a large man. Kirk narrowed his eyes; the man was touching Spock in an inappropriate manner for a Vulcan, although Spock didn’t appear to be dissuading him. Kirk wondered if he should go over there; he could always draw Spock away on some urgent business.

“Your first officer is Vulcan,” Lenta interrupted his thoughts. “The Vulcans do not engage in sexual intercourse at all, I am told.”

“That’s not true,” said Kirk, struggling to repress a smile. “They’re just… even more private than we are.”

“I see.” Her face brightened. “So he is available?”

“No,” Kirk said, far too hurriedly. “Actually, he’s –“

“Ah, I see. I had wondered if… Excuse me, Captain, I must make some arrangements.”

Before Kirk had a chance to deny her assumption, she was gone in a flurry of swirling robes. She moved elegantly, and Kirk couldn't help casting an appraising glance over his as she left. It was a new experience for him, to be attracted to someone but have no interest in pursuing them. 

“What was that about?” McCoy’s voice behind him made him jump.

“Nothing,” Kirk replied. “Just – shit, I think I just described myself as ‘spoken for.’”

McCoy gave a bark of laughter. “Yeah, they don’t mess around here, do they?”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “Someone’s getting their ass kicked for leaving that out of the briefing.”

“I don’t think it’s universal,” said McCoy. Some countries here are more…liberal than others. Apparently whoever did the research only met the less open ones.” At Kirk’s inquisitive look, he explained, “Just got myself a history lesson. _Damn_ this place is dull. Except for the casual sex, and no one would listen to my STD lectures if I went in for that.”

“No one listens to them anyway,” Kirk laughed. “And you've had all the shots anyway. Go, if you’re bored. Get laid.”

“What about you?”

Kirk leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Best thing about being monogamous all of a sudden? I _know_ I’m getting laid.”

McCoy screwed up his face. “Thanks, Jim,” he muttered. “Now I’ve got no chance of getting it up tonight.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Kirk hauled himself to his feet, clapping McCoy on the back, and looked around the room. “Shit,” he exclaimed, squinting, “it’s gotten dark. Don’t they have lights in here?”

A hand on the small of his back made him start, but he relaxed when he sensed Spock’s presence.

“They have no need of artificial lighting,” said Spock. “Their second set of eyes is sensitive to the infrared.”

“Oh.” Kirk had read that, it had just slipped his mind. “Did we bring any flashlights?”

A light flickered on beside him, answering his question. “We did,” Spock confirmed.

“You think of everything,” Kirk said. “What would I do without you?”

“You would no doubt be with the charming Lenta,” Spock replied with obviously false nonchalance.

“I think I’ll just…” McCoy muttered, making a hasty exit.

Kirk bit back a smile. “You saw that, huh?” he said in a low voice.

Spock’s hand traced a tantalizing trail up his spine. “I heard you describe yourself as – what was your phrase? – ‘spoken for.’”

Spock’s voice was a low rumble that went straight to Kirk’s groin. He shivered and gently touched his fingers to Spock’s. “Do you think we’ve done enough diplomacy today?”

“Quite enough,” Spock agreed. “Though if you will recall, we did agree to spend the night as guests of Iliev. Perhaps a… strategic meeting is in order before we retire?”

As though reading their minds, Lenta appeared by Kirk’s shoulder. “Captain, Commander,” she greeted them. “When you are ready to retire, I have taken the liberty of upgrading your quarters.”

“We’re ready,” Kirk said, hoping she wouldn’t notice how breathless he was.

“Very well.” Kirk could not see her face, in shadow from the dim light of Spock’s flashlight, but the smirk was evident in her voice. Kirk squirmed as he realized that with infrared vision, the heat of his arousal must be blinding to her. She made no comment, though, for which he was intensely grateful.

The room she led them to was, to Kirk’s mind, reminiscent of a bridal suite. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that was precisely what it was, or whatever the equivalent was here. There was a table laden with bowls of various local fruits that Kirk recognized from dinner; a door stood ajar, revealing a vast bathroom; but what drew Kirk’s eye was the enormous bed which dominated the room.

Lenta bade them goodnight and beat a hasty retreat. Kirk supposed he should have been embarrassed by the obvious insinuation, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off the bed. It was luxurious, and at least twice as wide as Kirk's back on the _Enterprise_. He took a running jump at it, landing flat on his back and laughing hysterically. When he opened his eyes, it was to see Spock standing beside the bed, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrow raised in obvious disapproval.

Kirk stuck his tongue out at him, which only pushed the eyebrow even higher. "Captain," said Spock warily, "we cannot accept this room. If word reached Starfleet Command –“

“Then we’ll say it was an amusing misunderstanding and we played along so as not to offend,” said Kirk. “Now come here and play along.” He held out an arm in invitation, and Spock slowly, with reluctance that was probably feigned, toed off his shoes and crawled across the bed.

The sight of Spock looming over him made Kirk’s heart hammer in his chest. The flashlight threw long shadows over his face, accentuating his angular brows. His eyes were dark, and his lips, slightly parted, ghosted warm breath over Kirk’s face. It made him ache, to want so much. He ran his hands up Spock’s back, over his shoulders and into his hair, trying to think of something appropriate to say, and then decided to kiss him instead.

The kiss began gently, but built in intensity until Kirk’s head was spinning and he was grinding helplessly against Spock’s hip. They broke apart, both panting for breath, to wriggle inelegantly out of their clothing, and then Kirk found himself stretched out on top of Spock, both of them entirely naked. Spock’s skin was so hot it felt as though it could burn; Kirk loved how unique it felt, so warm and dry, like the deserts of Vulcan that he had seen only in an illusion. He kissed his way down Spock’s throat, hands running up and down his sides, hovering over the frantic thrum of his heart.

Spock writhed beneath him, hands clenching at the sheets. It drove Kirk crazy to see him like this, as only he was permitted to see him. He ventured further, sliding his fingers through the coarse hair that covered his chest and stomach, and then lower. When his lips brushed across the head of his cock, Spock made a strangled sound and his hips bucked clean off the bed.

Kirk hesitated. He’d never been permitted to do this before, but he’d wanted to many times. He ran his hand lightly over Spock’s stomach, feeling the skin quiver beneath his touch, and glanced upwards, seeking permission to continue.

Spock took his hand, entwining their fingers together and squeezing hard. Their eyes met, and Kirk drew a shaky breath. He held Spock’s gaze as he slowly lowered his head and placed a tentative kiss on the head of his cock. Spock went very still, and Kirk saw his eyes widen. Kirk’s heart was racing, his hands trembling, as he slowly, deliberately ran his tongue along the length of Spock’s erection. He dipped his tongue into the slit, licking up a drop of precome. It tasted strange; not bad – if anything, it was less bitter than a human’s – but unfamiliar. And then he wrapped his lips around the head and slowly drew the entire length into his mouth.

The buzz he got from finally being able to do this was intoxicating. He’d fantasized about it so many times, but nothing came close to the reality; the heat, like a brand on his tongue, the way Spock writhed, his small, staccato gasps.

He felt Spock’s hand on his face, his fingers tracing out the meld positions. Kirk laid a hand over his, holding Spock’s fingers in place as an indication of permission. He heard Spock murmur something incoherent, and then his head went heavy and foggy as Spock’s mind slid into his.

The first thing he felt was mild panic, a feeling he recognized by now from whenever he tested the edges of Spock’s comfort zone. Kirk never really understood how much of his own thoughts Spock sensed in return, but he tried to focus on how much he enjoyed this; the unique taste of Spock, blander than a human, the heady scent of him, the way Kirk thrilled at every squirm and gasp he elicited. Gradually, he felt Spock’s nerves ebb away, overcome by a sense of wonder and a torrent of raging lust.

The feedback loop was incredible. When Kirk sucked hard, feeling the head of Spock’s cock nudging at the back of his throat, he felt it himself. He could feel out which parts were the most sensitive; the head, just like a human, especially that bit on the underside that made him feel as though he was on fire, but there was also a spot near the base that made his toes curl whenever he licked at it. It became hard to concentrate, though, as the pressure built and it felt as though his blood was going to burst clean out of his body. He worked on instinct, feeling exactly where Spock needed him and when, and in no time at all, the heat crashed over him, and he was shuddering through his own orgasm even as he swallowed down Spock’s seed. 

He held on tight to Spock’s hand, sucking out every drop, until he felt the twinge of oversensitivity and released him. He collapsed on top of Spock, head on his chest, panting hard as the tremors subsided. The taste of Spock’s come was a cloying sweetness on his tongue, an aftertaste that reminded him strangely of syrup. He had a distant memory of Spock telling him once that Vulcan bodies had no salt, which meant that the dominant flavor was glucose. And then, with a start, he realized that thought wasn’t his own; he looked up, and caught Spock’s eye, and felt his surprise.

It was the first time they’d managed to maintain the meld past climax, and the sensation of sharing the afterglow was somehow almost as powerful as the shared orgasm. Delighted, Kirk kissed him; he felt Spock’s hesitance at tasting himself, but that soon ebbed away and he was holding Kirk tightly against him as his tongue explored Kirk’s mouth.

Suddenly, there was a sound behind them. Kirk froze, then slowly pulled away from the kiss. He saw Spock’s eyes go wide, and then there was the jarring sensation of the meld being broken as he was unceremoniously thrown aside. He scrambled up to a seated position just in time to see the lights of a transporter beam dissolve into three people.

He recognized the first immediately as the Commander Charvon, the Romulan from whom they had rescued Sarek and Spock Senior. Behind her were two armed guards, their weapons trained on Kirk and Spock.

Helplessness sank into the pit of Kirk’s stomach. Entirely unarmed, as was required at diplomatic functions within the Federation – not to mention naked – there was nothing they could do.

“Well, well,” said Charvon. “Starfleet boys _are_ friendly, aren’t they?”

“How did you get in here?” Kirk asked while he frantically wracked his brain for a way out.

“Dreadful security,” she replied, a smirk twisting her lips. “But don’t mind us, we’re not staying long.” She made a gesture with one hand, and the guards moved swiftly to either side of the bed. One grabbed Kirk by the arm, pulling him up, while the other dragged Spock over to the other side of the room.

Charvon averted her eyes and picked up their discarded clothes from the floor. She threw the longer pair of pants at Spock and sighed, “Put these on, please.”

Spock calmly complied, but Kirk saw his eyes dart to his guard’s shoulder, obviously judging whether he could get in a nerve pinch before being shot. The one guarding Kirk must have seen this too, because he grabbed Kirk’s shoulder and shoved him down onto his knees. Kirk glared at Spock, silently willing him not to do anything to get himself killed.

“You’re in Federation space,” Kirk warned Charvon. “You do realize this will be considered an act of war?”

“War?” She raised one elegantly slanted eyebrow. “Oh, but there’s no need for anyone to be hurt, if you just behave yourselves.” Seeing that Spock was suitably attired – though apparently unperturbed by Kirk’s nakedness – she nodded to the guard holding Kirk down. The guard stepped away, keeping his weapon pointed at Kirk’s head.

Charvon smirked. “Good night, Captain. It was… most illuminating to meet you in person.”

And then Kirk could only watch, utterly helpless, as the transporter beam consumed the Romulans and Spock, and he was left alone in a darkened room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Enterprise_ embarks on a hunt for Spock, and uncovers a destructive plot.

On the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , Chekov went immediately to the scanners. Kirk paced the bridge, nails digging into his palms with the effort it took not to bark out orders.

Finally, Chekov looked up. "I see traces of a warp signature, Keptin," he announced. "Computing trajectory…"

"Just send the coordinates straight to Mr. Sulu's station," Kirk cut in, frantic at the time that was being lost.

"Aye, sir." Chekov murmured to himself as he made the calculations.

Moments later, Sulu announced, "Course laid in, sir."

Kirk let out a shaky breath. "Take us out."

He watched the viewscreen as the planet beneath them disappeared from view and the surrounding stars went from white to blue and then vanished from sight, and only then did he slump into his chair.

"Warp eight," Sulu announced.

"Any sign of them?" Kirk called over to Chekov.

"Not yet, Keptin," he called back without looking up from the scanner.

Kirk drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, his heart racing. Seconds passed that dragged like hours. It felt as though they were going painfully slowly, for all that Kirk knew they were traveling at some five hundred times the speed of light. Anxious, he pressed the intercom on his chair and called, "Mr. Scott? We need more speed."

"I'm givin' her all she's got, Cap'n," Scotty's harried voice called back.

"It's not enough," Kirk insisted. "Can we get warp nine?"

There was a moment's silence from the other end before Scotty's voice, sounding distinctly wary, replied, "There's a wee chance… not been tried, o' course…"

"Do it," Kirk commanded, and broke the connection.

He held his breath and watched the viewscreen helplessly, knowing it would show him nothing at this speed, yet foolishly hopeful that a Romulan ship would suddenly come into view.

"Warp 8.2," Sulu called out.

Kirk's hands gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles went white. He realized he was holding his breath, and when he released it, it came out shaky. Every minute that passed was a minute in which the Romulans could be doing unspeakable things to Spock. He'd heard stories, things that had happened during the war; worse, he'd seen the state Pike was in after being held only a short time by Nero.

What if Spock had already exhausted his usefulness to them, and – but no, he wouldn't even allow himself to think of that. This was Spock; he would hold up under whatever they threw at him, and Kirk would get there in time. He had to; any other outcome was simply not an option.

It felt as though hours dragged by, though the chronometer insisted that a mere ten minutes had passed, before Chekov announced, "I'm picking up a Romulan wessel, Keptin."

Kirk slumped back in his chair, panting as though he'd run a marathon. "Thank God," he breathed. He allowed himself one brief moment to acknowledge how much he'd been afraid and to vow silently that they would never be separated again, and then he straightened up, and his voice was pure professionalism as he ordered, "Shields up, arm phaser banks. Uhura, open hailing frequencies."

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the verbal confrontation. He knew this was where he excelled; he could outthink any opponent in a battle of wills. Anyone but Spock, at least. His gut gave an involuntary lurch at the thought of him, but he steeled himself. He would have Spock back in no time.

He realized that Uhura was taking a long time to establish the connection, and turned around to see her shaking her head in frustration. "There's no response on any channel," she explained when he caught her eye.

Kirk's breath caught in his throat. "Try a different channel?" he suggested weakly.

Even Uhura's withering look lacked sincerity, so deep was her frustration. Before she could make a scathing retort, Chekov called over, "Keptin, I cannot see any life signs."

Kirk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The lack of life signs meant nothing – he'd already learned that Vulcans could avoid detection, and Romulans were closely related to them – but he was at a loss to work out what they might be trying to achieve. And since they weren't talking, there was only one way to find out. "All right," he said. "Uhura, tell them we're beaming over."

All eyes turned to face him, with nearly identical expressions of shock. "I know it's dangerous..." Kirk began.

"Oh, good," Uhura cut in, her voice icy. "We were worried you weren’t aware of how stupid this is."

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Kirk challenged her.

She held his gaze a moment longer, a fearsome glare in her eyes. Then she sighed and swiveled back around to her station, and Kirk barely caught her murmured, "Be careful."

"As I was saying," Kirk sighed. "I know it's dangerous, so I won't order anyone to come with me. But I'd like you to come, Sulu, if you're willing."

"I'm there," Sulu responded with a grim smile.

Kirk waited on the bridge for Sulu's replacement to arrive, watching the Romulan ship through the viewscreen with increasing anxiety. "What are they trying to pull?" he wondered aloud.

"Probably trying to lure you over there," Uhura remarked in between calls. "And you're falling for the trap just perfectly."

Kirk waited for her to finish alerting the transporter room to their imminent arrival before replying, "So why not just come on the comms and tell me to come over there? By ignoring us, how do they know we won't just blow them out of the sky?"

Uhura turned around then, and the arch of her eyebrow was eloquent in its derision of Kirk's naivety. Kirk's insides squirmed; now that he was so close to getting Spock back, he had the presence of mind to realize how painfully obvious this whole situation had made their relationship. He was fortunate that the rest of the crew had had the decency to deal with the crisis before asking the obvious question of why Kirk had been with Spock when he was taken in the middle of the night, but surely the questions would follow when things got back to normal, which gave him only a short while to think up a plausible explanation…

The swoosh of the door announcing the arrival of Sulu's relief tore Kirk from his train of thought, and he felt immediately guilty for entertaining such premature thoughts in the first place.

"Come on, Mr. Sulu," he said. "Let's go find our first officer."

There was evidently far more logic in the design of this ship than in the _Narada_ ; this time, Scotty was successful in beaming them into a deserted part of the ship, allowing them to get their bearings before entering into a confrontation.

They their way silently along the maze of twisty passages, the only sound the pounding of blood in Kirk’s ears. At every corner, they paused, and Kirk held his breath, phaser poised, listening for the sound of footsteps, breathing, anything that would betray the presence of a Romulan.

The further they got with no signs of life, the louder the alarm bells in Kirk's head rang. They were drawing close to the bridge now; that they had come so far without encountering anyone could not be a coincidence. There had to be some huge ambush waiting for them.

At the entrance to the bridge, they stopped. Kirk double-checked that his phaser was set to stun – he couldn’t risk killing anyone while they still had Spock – and signaled for Sulu to wait.

How many Romulans could there be on the other side? he wondered. He'd seen an image of the bridge of this ship once before, though his attention had been on the sneering commander. It looked smaller than the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , though, so surely there could be no more than a half dozen of them waiting on the other side.

Could he and Sulu, between them, take out half a dozen Romulans? It was a tall order, but they had the element of surprise. 

"Captain," said Sulu under his breath. "I don't hear anything."

Kirk's heart sank. Of course, they were expected, and beaming backup over at this stage could only make them more vulnerable. "Okay," he whispered. "We're going in."

To his surprise, the door responded to a simple push, opening to reveal a darkened bridge. They inched forwards slowly, expecting an army of Romulans to spring up from under the consoles at any moment.

A quick circuit of the bridge, though, revealed that it was completely deserted. Kirk walked around once more, peering under every console, but there was no one to be seen.

Sulu was standing by what appeared to be the weapons console, staring at something and frowning. He beckoned Kirk over and gestured to the computer screen, which displayed a message in large Romulan script.

"Any idea what it says?" Sulu asked.

Kirk stared at the foreign words, willing them to form into something comprehensible. He could read a little Vulcan, but this looked nothing like the Vulcan script. He flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

"Mr. Scott here," came the response. 

"Scotty, put Uhura on. I need a translation."

A moment later, Uhura's voice crackled over the communicator. "Uhura here. What's going on? Do you have Spock?"

"No," Kirk admitted ruefully. "They knew we were coming; the place is deserted. God knows where they're hiding or what sort of trap this is, but it looks like they left us a message. There's something flashing on the computer screen, but I can't read it."

"Can you –" Uhura broke off, and Kirk could hear a muffled conversation in the background. He waited with increasing impatience, until eventually she said, "Hang on – Gaila's here – we're going to try to get visual communications up." There was some more muffled conversation, and then, "Okay, we're sending a signal that should automatically trigger visual contact. Can you find the communications console?"

Sulu waved from the other side of the Romulan bridge and indicated a red flashing light at what appeared to be the comms station. Kirk nodded at him to press the button.

The panorama of stars flickered out from the large vidscreen, to be replaced with a view of the bridge of the _Enterprise_. Uhura was squinting at the screen, mouthing the Romulan words. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she said, "Shit. You have to get out of there. Right now."

"What?" Kirk instinctively glanced down at the computer screen, as though it would somehow have revealed its secret. "Why?"

"Get your ass back over here, now," she yelled.

There was no arguing with that tone. "All right," he replied. "Two to beam in."

Kirk kept staring at the screen as the darkened bridge dissolved around them, and realized with dawning horror what Uhura had seen in that message.

The moment they materialized in the transporter room, Kirk ran to the bridge. Crewmembers leaped aside as he flew past them, but he barely even saw them, so focused was he on his destination. The turbolift was painfully slow, seeming to inch its way upwards and across, but finally the doors flew open. Kirk stumbled out onto the bridge, breathing heavily, his heart pounding. No one so much as glanced over at him; all eyes were fixed on the viewscreen, where the last fragments of the Romulan vessel were flying apart.

*

It felt like hours that they watched. The flames were quickly quenched by the vacuum of space, and the wreckage of the ship had broken up and flown in different directions, setting a course across the galaxy that would end only as each fragment impacted with some celestial body, burned up in some planet's atmosphere or fell into orbit around some star.

When Sulu arrived on the bridge some time later, it was to deathly silence. He retook his station without a word, his replacement scurrying off the bridge with evident relief to be free from this tension. McCoy arrived just as he left, wordlessly moving straight to Kirk, mediscanner in hand. Kirk silently allowed the scan, still staring blindly out into the blackness. McCoy moved on to Sulu, and still no one said a word. The recurring bleeps of the consoles and the whirring of the mediscanner faded into the background. Kirk could still see the Romulan Commander’s face, still hear her cruel laugh. If only he'd done more, he silently berated himself. He could have fought harder, done _something_ , and Spock would still be here… 

Finally, it was Sulu who spoke up. "There was no one on board," he pointed out. "They must have all left on shuttles. There's no reason to think they didn't take Spock with them."

McCoy shook his head, frowning. "Why would they abandon ship, taking a Vulcan the whole damn Federation is looking for with them, and leave the ship to self-destruct? They knew we were looking for him, knew Jim'd board the ship to rescue him… What if they meant to destroy you both?"

"How can you say that?" Kirk turned on him.

"Hey," McCoy raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just calling it as I see it."

Kirk slumped back in his chair. There had to be a rational explanation that left Spock alive; he couldn't accept any alternative.

"Our scanners didn't read his life signs," Chekov pointed out.

"We didn't pick up on Sarek or Ambassador Spock either," Sulu countered.

"That's because they didn't want to be found," Kirk cut in. "Spock would have no reason to avoid detection; he'd know we were looking for him."

"Unless he'd managed to escape from the Romulans and was avoiding detection by _them_ ," Sulu suggested.

"No," Kirk insisted. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would they kidnap him, then leave him in the middle of nowhere, and sacrifice their ship just to get me too? If they'd wanted us both dead they could have done that down on the planet."

"Where were ye, when it happened?" Scotty asked.

"In my guest quarters on the planet…er, discussing their entry into the Federation." Kirk could feel heat flood his face, but apart from a raised eyebrow from McCoy, no one seemed to notice the transparency of his lie.

"That's weird," said Scotty.

Kirk's heart was pounding. Now was really not the time he wanted to have to justify his relationship with Spock. Not when every minute took Spock further from their reach.

But all Scotty said was, "If they knew where ye were staying, were those night-vision folk in cahoots with them?"

Kirk almost wanted to believe that – at least it would give them a target – but he shook his head. "It's easy enough to differentiate Vulcan life signs from other species."

Scotty let out a sigh. "True enough. So where now?"

"I've been scanning the area," said Chekov. "I think perhaps, it is very weak, but maybe I think… that way." He pointed with one hand while the other transferred the coordinates to Sulu.

"Okay," Kirk gestured for Sulu to proceed. "We go that way."

*

Minutes turned into hours, and barely a word was exchanged on the bridge. Eventually, Alpha shift melted away into Beta, Kirk alone remaining where he was as the crews changed over. Occasionally, his patience would break and he would demand an update, but the response was always the same: they were following warp signatures, but there was still no sign of any Romulan ship or shuttlecraft.

Beta shift dissolved into Gamma. Kirk kept catching himself dozing; his head would snap up, and he'd demand another update. The navigator gave him the same report each time, delivered in the same monotone.

More hours ticked over on the chronometer. There was no artificial dawn on the bridge, constantly manned as it was, but Kirk imagined he could sense the sun beginning to rise. Sure enough, Alpha shift began to trickle in, and the Gamma shift personnel gave him annoyingly sympathetic looks as they left.

"Chekov," said Kirk around a yawn. "Update?"

Instead of replying, Chekov cast a guilty glance somewhere over Kirk's left shoulder. Kirk turned around, following his gaze, and came face to face with a scowling McCoy.

"You've been here all night."

It sounded like an accusation, and that rankled Kirk; he was the captain, after all, and the hours he kept were his own business. "I'm staying here until we find him," he replied tersely.

"No, you won't," McCoy insisted. "You're going to go back to your quarters and rest, or I'll have Security escort you to Sickbay where you can be tied down."

Kirk opened his mouth to argue, but McCoy held up his hand. "And before you try pulling rank, you know as well as I do that the CMO can override the captain on medical grounds."

"We'll wake you if we find anything," Uhura offered. Although she had left the bridge at the end of her shift the night before, she looked exhausted and had obviously had little sleep.

"Come on," said McCoy, more softly. "What happens if we catch up with him and you're in no state to fight those pointy-eared bastards?"

That was what finally persuaded him; he had to be ready to take on a dozen Romulans at once when they finally caught up with them. "Fine," he reluctantly agreed. "But I want to be woken if anything happens. And I mean anything, however trivial."

"We will," Uhura agreed, and Kirk believed her, because who else on this ship could come close to understanding how he felt?

*

Kirk awoke feeling groggy. He blinked at the chronometer, trying to will the numbers to swim into focus, before finally giving up and asking, "Computer, time?"

It was 19:27. Kirk rolled over, groaning in frustration, and then gave a sudden, lurching start.

He'd been so exhausted that morning that he'd collapsed into bed without a thought, but as he rolled over, he caught Spock's scent on the pillow, and the events of the previous day came flooding back.

Spock. Just the thought of him made Kirk feel as though his heart had been torn in two. It was all too much; the aching memory of their last night together on that planet, and the sudden vacuum of his absence.

The things he would have done differently, had he known that could be their last time together. He remembered every kiss, every sigh. If he focused, he could still feel the weight of Spock in his mouth, could still feel the dull burn of friction from where Spock's body had moved against his. He inhaled deeply, allowing Spock's scent to infuse him, but his breath caught in his throat and came out as a wracking sob.

The buzzer at his door sounded, but Kirk ignored it, clinging desperately to the memory that was all he had left. Moments later, though, the door slid open, and McCoy greeted him with a rough, "Morning."

"I didn't invite you in," Kirk mumbled into the pillow.

"Medical override," McCoy explained. "I brought you breakfast."

"That's an abuse of privileges," Kirk protested, but he wearily hauled himself up to a seated position.

McCoy deposited the tray on his lap, and it was only as the scent of hot bacon reached him that he realized just how starving he was. "Wow," he said. "It's even real food."

"Well," McCoy shrugged and sat at the foot of the bed. "Not sure when you last ate, and it can't do any harm this once."

Kirk devoured his breakfast gracelessly, mumbling his thanks around a mouthful and ignoring McCoy's disgusted grimace. When he was done, he set the tray aside and slumped against the wall. "I should get to the bridge," he began.

"I checked in for an update before I came down here – still no sign of any ship."

"Are we going the right way?"

McCoy shrugged. "Chekov insists he's got some kind of warp signature." 

Kirk let out a heavy sigh and fixed his gaze on the wall somewhere over McCoy's shoulder, not trusting himself to meet his eye. "There has to be something else we can do, something we're missing…"

"The message has gone out to every Federation planet, ally, outpost and space station," McCoy reminded him. "There are plenty of people on the lookout."

"So you think we should just sit back and wait?"

McCoy got to his feet, throwing up his hands. "I don't know what to suggest. I think we're doing everything we can. We'll find him, Jim."

"And the planet? Is someone following that up? Because if they knew –"

"It's in hand, Jim. I honestly don't think they knew, though, to judge by the fuss they kicked up…" He trailed off, frowning, and fixed Kirk with a gaze that was a definite challenge. "That reminds me," he said. "What were you doing… you know, together, when it happened?"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Don’t start on that again, Bones. You know full well what we were doing."

McCoy gave a dismissive wave. "I don't mean that. _That_ is one thing, but spending the _night_ together? That's downright dangerous."

"Thanks for your input," Kirk sighed.

"I mean it," McCoy persisted. "For the two commanding officers to be in the same place, unguarded… we're just lucky they didn't want to kill you, or we'd have lost Captain and First Officer in one fell swoop."

"I'm aware of that," Kirk snapped. "But for God's sake, we were on a friendly planet, as far as we knew… And, well, I just like having him there." He looked away, mortified by his own sentimentality. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

McCoy sat back down at the foot of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. "Don't be so sure, kid," he mumbled. He took a deep breath, then looked up. "I felt like that once, you know. Hell, I ended up _married_ because of it."

"Just because it didn't work out for you –" Kirk shot back, but cut himself off at McCoy's bark of laughter.

"So it didn't work out," McCoy shrugged. "Doesn't mean I didn't want it to, once."

Kirk stared at him, suddenly intrigued. The only contexts in which McCoy had ever referred to his ex-wife were when he was complaining about the divorce or his access to his kid. It had never really occurred to Kirk to wonder what they were like before that, and it was hard to imagine McCoy as a young romantic who actually _wanted_ to be married.

"Don't look at me like that," McCoy grumbled, his scowl back in place. "I'll deny the hell out of it if you ever tell Elf-boy this, but lately I've actually been rooting for you guys."

Kirk just stared at him, slack-jawed, completely speechless. He knew McCoy had come round to grudging approval – or rather, lack of disapproval – but had never imagined it could go any further than that.

McCoy visibly squirmed under Kirk's incredulous gaze. "I still think it's the dumbest thing you've ever done," he insisted with an exaggerated glower. "But…dammit, he was - _is_ \- good for you."

Kirk was so taken aback that he even overlooked the slip. "Huh," was all he could say.

"You were a pain in the ass at the Academy, you know," McCoy went on, apparently on a roll now. "I got sick to death of looking out for you, making breakfast for your hook-ups, picking you up in the middle of the night when you were too drunk – "

"Hey," Kirk protested, "you loved it really, you know it."

"Well," McCoy shrugged, "that's the thing. I'm an old man, I don't like change."

"You're not old," Kirk scoffed. "Anyway, nothing's really changed. You still get me out of a scrape every week."

"Not really. You're reckless sometimes, sure, but you're not dumb. And when something does go wrong, well, Spock's been there…"

"So you're jealous?"

McCoy screwed up his face. "Not about _that_ ," he said, swatting Kirk's leg.

Lacking any more heartfelt response, Kirk kicked him, but his mind was in a whirl; he'd never really considered this whole thing from McCoy's point of view. He couldn't imagine how it felt to go from grudging babysitter to subordinate, while someone who was in most ways his complete opposite charged in and swept Kirk off his feet. He had a vague memory, all the way back on their first mission, the first time McCoy had got grumpy about Kirk's siding with Spock in one of their silly rows. He hadn't given it a second thought, though; how the hell had he let it get to the point where they went weeks without speaking before he realized what was going on?

"I didn't know," Kirk said quietly, picking at a stray thread on the blanket. "You didn't seem to want to hang out…"

"Yeah, well, like I said, you're a pain in the ass," McCoy grumbled.

Kirk didn't need to press further; he knew perfectly well that he'd only sought McCoy's company when he and Spock were having issues, and he'd known McCoy long enough to know that his dismissals meant nothing.

They sat in silence for a while, Kirk miserably considering every mistake he'd made since this five-year mission began. And that was a depressing thought in itself; they hadn't yet made the one-year mark, and he was already down a first officer and utterly defeated. How was he supposed to last another four years of this?

"I've really screwed up, haven't I?" he sighed. "I just wish –" he swallowed and blinked fiercely – "I wish I hadn't had to lose him for you to point that out."

McCoy looked at the ceiling. "You haven't _lost_ anyone, and sitting here feeling sorry for himself isn't doing anyone any good. Get your ass out of bed, get on the bridge, and let's go fetch your boyfriend from those bastard Romulans."

Grinning, Kirk threw the covers off and leapt to his feet. "All right! And you know what? When we find him, I'm gonna marry him."

McCoy just rolled his eyes. "Dammit Jim, you can be such a sappy cliché."

*

The day ended much as it had begun, and another followed it, and then another.

The day that Kirk returned to his quarters to find that his bedding had been changed, he was irrationally angry. Before he could talk himself out of it, he stormed out of his quarters and towards Spock's.

It was eerie, being back in Spock's quarters. The room was exactly as Spock had left it; there was still a chess set on the side, PADD on his desk, as though he was expected back any moment, and the scent of incense still lingered in the air. Yet it felt cold; in fact, it was the same temperature as the rest of the ship, but Spock would normally have set the environmental controls to a higher level. Kirk breathed in the air; that incense smell caused a stirring within him, so deeply was it entwined in his memory with Spock.

He ordered a Vulcan tea from the replicator and sat down at the desk, idly flicking the PADD on. Spock had been reading the briefing on Iliev, efficient as always. Kirk scanned it as he sipped his tea, though in truth the words blurred in front of his eyes. He couldn't stop going through every detail of that last night, torturing himself over what he should have done differently. He shouldn't have taken Spock down there at all, he knew now; Spock had never been comfortable with those kinds of functions. That brought to mind the darkly possessive look Spock had given him when Lenta had propositioned him, and the exquisite thrill he'd felt when he announced himself as 'spoken for.' He'd never had cause to consider himself taken before, and had certainly never thought that he might one day consider it a good thing to be.

He wondered if Spock knew any of this. Other than one outburst after the pon farr incident, he'd never told Spock how he felt, or even vocalized it in his own head. Wherever he was now, did he know Kirk was driving himself to distraction trying to find him? Assuming he was even alive… Kirk quashed that thought before it could get the better of him. Somehow, he felt as though he'd know if Spock were dead. It was a daft idea, since they weren't bonded, but he stubbornly insisted to himself that he was right; Spock had to still be alive.

Not really paying attention to what he was doing, Kirk flicked through the other tabs on Spock's PADD. There were lots of unread messages, of course, from the various lists he was included on, and seemingly endless tabs of graphs from various science reports. Though actually, when Kirk looked closer, it seemed they were from the same report, all under the name Granger. There were color-magnitude diagrams, spectra, light curves… Of course, Kirk sighed, that damn supernova. He set the PADD down on the desk and rubbed at his temples.

If this went on much longer, he was going to have to appoint a new head of science, maybe even a new first officer… but that was a long way off. They would find Spock soon; they had to.

Exhausted, Kirk stumbled over to Spock's bed and collapsed atop the covers. This bed, at least, still carried his scent. Kirk rolled over, buried his face in the pillow and within minutes he'd fallen into a fitful sleep.

*

Days became weeks. Kirk went through the motions, doing a double shift every day until exhaustion overtook him. He didn't return to Spock's quarters, but he kept hold of his PADD for no real reason that he could identify. The crew spoke to him only when they had to, obviously not sure what to say. Even so, Kirk could sense that they were talking about him. Perhaps it was just his own paranoia, but he was convinced the whole crew thought he'd lost it, that they were on some wild goose chase. And who was he to convince them otherwise?

He took most of his meals with Uhura. They didn't speak, but Kirk sensed she was the only one who really believed they would find Spock, and that made being around her comforting.

They were over a month from Iliev when Kirk finally saw Chekov spring into action, pressing buttons, doing hasty calculations and finally taking over the scanners. Kirk held his breath, perched on the edge of his seat, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Uhura doing the same.

"What is it?" Kirk demanded, impatient. "Do you see them?"

Chekov shook his head and looked forlornly out at the viewscreen. "Nyet," he said in a low voice. "We've lost them. There is no more warp signature. They came out of warp here, but…long time ago. Many days, perhaps."

"So what now?" Kirk pressed. "Where did they go?"

"There is no trace," said Chekov helplessly.

"Then there must have been somewhere they could have hidden their trail," Kirk insisted. "A strong magnetic field, a nebula…"

Chekov looked miserable, and even as frantic as he felt, Kirk had to feel for him. "Come on," he pleaded. "You're the tactical brain – what would you do if you were evading someone?"

"As you say, a nebula, or a magnetic field, but there is nothing…" Chekov trailed off, frowning at his console.

"What is it?"

"Is probably nothing…" Chekov replied hesitantly.

"I don't care how unlikely it is," said Kirk. "You have to give me _something_."

Chekov was silent for a moment as he carried out more calculations. Finally, he slumped back in his chair and cursed at the console. "It's wrong," he declared. "I was thinking maybe there is a system nearby with a good magnetic field – you remember how we hid behind Titan? – but is back in Federation space."

Kirk was half-tempted to suggest they pursue it anyway, but the Romulans would be exceedingly dumb to venture into Federation space, especially while they held a Starfleet officer captive.

"Do we have any better suggestions?" he tried, looking around the bridge. "Uhura? Anything on communications?"

"Nothing at all," she sighed. "Whatever they're doing, they're keeping quiet about it."

"Okay." Kirk sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So we check out the Federation system, unless someone comes up with a better plan."

He saw Sulu and Chekov exchange a wary glance, and his fragile temper snapped. "Unless you have a better suggestion, you'll follow my goddamn orders, you hear?" They both turned around with identical expressions of shock. Kirk was past caring. "Do your jobs," he ordered. "This is the _Enterprise_ ; we don't leave anyone behind."

*

It had taken longer than Kirk thought it would, but he was still unprepared for it when it happened.

The intercom interrupted him in his quarters, as he was combing through every scrap of information he could find on Romulans. At first, he barely registered what Uhura was saying, but then he heard her pause, not having put the transmission through.

"Did you hear me?" she prompted. "Captain?" Kirk stared blankly at the screen. "It's Admiral Pike for you."

"Right, put him through."

"Jim?" Still Uhura, sounding almost frightened. "You know what he wants, don't you?"

"No? I – oh." Kirk felt as though a leaden weight had been dropped on him. Of course he knew what this was about. They'd been on their wild goose chase for six weeks now, eating valuable Federation resources; what else could it be? He supposed he should feel some relief that it was Pike and not someone like Komack, but it seemed a small mercy under the circumstances. "Understood," he sighed. "Patch him through."

He had only a few seconds to compose himself before the screen flickered to life and he was looking at the stern visage of Admiral Pike. Kirk greeted him weakly, dread churning in his gut.

"You know what this is about, don't you?" said Pike, not unkindly.

"I do," Kirk confirmed. "And I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not calling off the search." He meant to sound defiant, but he could hear the strain in his own voice.

"Jim," said Pike sadly, "I know it's hard for you to accept this, but these things happen…"

"I don't accept that. If nothing else, he's a security risk –"

"Which is why extensive inquiries are being conducted. I can assure you we're sparing no –"

"Well it's obviously not enough!" Kirk bellowed.

Pike sat back, eyebrows raised. "Jim," he said, "you're already on thin ice. You don't know what's gone on here, how much influence I had to exert to persuade Starfleet not to court-martial you for breaching the Prime Directive –"

"That was –"

"I don't want to hear it," Pike cut him off. "However special you think you are, however important you think Spock is, you do not have the right to hijack the Federation's flagship on a hunt for just one man."

"With all due respect, Admiral, you're wrong." Kirk squared his shoulders and glared at the screen. "Commander Spock is not just one man. He's the finest first officer in the 'fleet, and I will not rest until I find him."

"I'm not blind, Jim," said Pike wearily. "I read your reports… I won't force you to confirm or deny it, but if you're emotionally compromised..."

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

"I'm sure you don't," Pike sighed. "Look, you have two choices: you can call this off now and I'll say nothing about you resisting orders. Or you can carry on, and face court-martial, which will mean the end of your career at the very least. I'll call you back in one hour."

And then, before Kirk could respond, the screen flickered out. He dropped his head into his hands and let out a shuddering breath. Without looking up, he reached for the intercom.

"Nyota? Ask Bones to come to my quarters, would you?" He hesitated, then added, "And come down yourself, too."

She acknowledged the request without comment. Kirk paced the room while he waited, wracking his brain for a solution. He tried to imagine what Spock would do, were their situations reversed. The logical thing, which would be to follow orders and trust Starfleet to track him down? A few months ago, he'd have been sure of that, but when he considered how logical Spock had been when he was hurt on Maia III, or on the Vulcan colony…

Uhura and McCoy arrived together, and to judge by the expression on McCoy's face, she'd already filled him in.

"Maia III," Kirk said without greeting, earning him identical looks of confusion. "They were in contact with the Romulans, right?" Kirk pressed. "Can we get in touch with them?"

"It's possible," Uhura mused. "A long shot, but worth a try."

McCoy's scowl deepened. "Don't mean to burst your bubble," he said, "but my wild guess is that Pike didn't call to offer his encouragement on this sterling job we're doing…"

"Yeah," Kirk sighed. "You're right."

"So what're the options?"

"I have an hour to decide whether I'm going to follow orders or be court-martialed," Kirk admitted. "But if I go back to him with a plan –"

"Jim," McCoy cut him off. "'I know a planet where someone spoke to some Romulans once' isn't a plan."

"Do you have a better one?"

"No," McCoy sighed. "But be honest. What you're talking about isn't coming up with a plan that will make Starfleet see reason and continue to allow you to use the _Enterprise_ for your own personal mission. You're talking about justifying to yourself why you're right and they're wrong, and you should defy their orders."

Deflated, Kirk sank into his chair. "This isn't my personal mission –"

Uhura cut him off. "You don't have to convince _us_ this is important. But if you keep this up, you'll lose your career."

"So? No one would bat an eyelid if I was risking my life for him, so what's a career? Why would I want to work for people who would let this happen, anyway?"

"Spock wouldn't want you to throw away your career over him," McCoy added.

Kirk considered that. If their positions were reversed, how would he feel about Spock risking his career for him? Angry, obviously; he'd tell Spock he was foolish, that Kirk wasn't worth it. Yet that guilty feeling in the back of his head told him that while it was true he'd be vocal in his insistence that Spock not waste his life searching for him, he would still expect him to do so. It felt like a horrible thing to think, and he would never admit it aloud, but it was true nonetheless.

With a painful lurch, he recalled a conversation from many months ago. _If you ever get stranded somewhere_ , he had told Spock, _I'm not coming after you._ Spock, of course, had just told him that he would only expect to be rescued if it was 'the best use of Starfleet resources.'

That meant nothing, though, he insisted to himself. Like any good officer, Spock would consider himself dispensable, but he was human enough not to truly accept that in reality. Kirk was certainly human enough to consider Spock's life more valuable than anyone else's, including his own, and if that meant he was compromised then so be it.

Only when McCoy shook him by the shoulder did he realize he was being spoken to. "Sorry," he said. "I was thinking."

"Did it hurt?" McCoy asked, purely out of habit to judge by the flatness of his voice, so Kirk didn't respond.

"You say you have an hour?" said Uhura. Kirk nodded. "Okay," she continued, "I'll see what I can get from Maia III. But it really is a long shot, so you should decide what you're going to say when he calls back."

"I know," Kirk sighed. As she turned to leave, he called after her, "Just out of interest, what would you do?"

She looked back over her shoulder with a tight smile. "I don't know. I know what I'd like to think I would do, but…" She shrugged, and then she was gone.

"Command really sucks," Kirk said, staring blankly at the door.

"That it does," McCoy sighed. "And not wanting to make this worse, but you do know I'll be expected to declare you unfit for command if you go ahead with this?"

Kirk gave a bitter, humorless laugh. "I've been emotionally compromised since we left Iliev."

"I know. I've been ignoring it – we all have. But if you openly defy orders, it’s harder to justify not stepping in."

"Are you saying you won't do it?"

McCoy exhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm a damn fool," he said, "but whatever you decide, I'll back you up."

"And risk your career too? Shit, Bones." Kirk dropped his head back. "That's an insane amount of pressure. You can't ask me to take you down with me."

"Just telling it like it is."

A full minute passed in complete silence as Kirk turned this over in his head. When McCoy spoke again, he sounded resigned. "You know, kid," he said, "I thought it was odd at first, that you snuck illegally onto a Starfleet vessel, mutinied against the acting captain, and still got rewarded with your own command. I realize now, it wasn't a reward at all, it's the worst punishment they could have doled out."

*

Kirk had heard it said many times that the only thing that can travel faster than warp 10 is news on a starship. While he sat in miserable silence with McCoy, Sulu and Chekov turned up, both insisting that they would go along with whatever he decided. Moments later, Scotty arrived with Gaila in tow.

"I sometimes think Spock's a few aces short of a pack, if ye know what I mean," said Scotty, "but it'd not be the _Enterprise_ without him."

Gaila looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I don't really know what's going on," she admitted. "I wasn't exactly listening… but lots of people were cheering about how they're on your side, so…" she grinned, "me too!"

"Really?" said Kirk. "They were?"

"You're not the _worst_ captain in Starfleet," said Sulu in a grudging tone, though he was grinning.

"And you're not the worst crew," Kirk grinned back.

Uhura chose that moment to return. She did a double take at the crowded room, but passed no comment. Everyone went silent, turning expectantly towards her. She took a few deep breaths before speaking, and even then her voice shook as she reported, "I spoke to Klar on Maia III."

It was obvious from her tone that it wasn't good news, but Kirk had to hear it. "Go on," he prompted.

"She was there," Uhura continued. "The Romulan Commander, that is." She closed her eyes. "They have no record of where they went next. And this was a month ago."

Kirk wracked his brain, trying to work out the logistics of that, but Chekov got there first. "That means they must have gone to Maia straight from Iliev," he stated in a flat voice. "The trail we've been following…"

"It's a decoy," Sulu finished.

It felt as though the air had left Kirk's lungs. He couldn't meet Uhura's eye as he asked the question he dreaded most of all. "And Spock?"

"He wasn't with her."

"That doesn't mean anything," he said hurriedly. "It means he was locked up on the ship somewhere, that's all."

"But Jim," she said, and her voice cracked. "What if he was on that other ship? The one that –" a sob tore its way from her throat, and she buried her face in Scotty's chest, her shoulders shaking. Scotty held her, shooting a desperate look over her head towards Kirk.

Kirk looked around at everyone who was gathered in his quarters. The finest crew in Starfleet, he was convinced of that, but they had no answers.

"This doesn't tell us anything," he insisted again. "Only that we're back at square one."

"If we've no leads," said Scotty, "how do we even know where to start?"

"We don't," Kirk admitted.

"So if there's no plan," said Sulu slowly, carefully, "is it worth a career?"

Kirk took a deep breath. He knew the answer, but it still pained him to say it. "Mine, maybe. I'd want to keep looking if it was the whole Universe we had to comb. But when there's no lead…I can't throw away other people's careers for that."

"Jim," said McCoy. "Don't do this on my account."

"I'm not. I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do."

McCoy laid a hand on his shoulder. "Then for what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing."

The intercom bleeped, and the Beta shift comms officer patched through Admiral Pike. Witnessed by his closest friends, Kirk dully accepted his new orders, all the while thinking, _What have I done?_

*

Days began and ended much as they had before; while they were in transit, there was little to remind him that anything had changed from the weeks of fruitless pursuit. The difference was that they were now on their way to some rock orbiting an uninteresting star, where they were expected to negotiate a mining treaty or settle a territory dispute, or – well, Kirk planned to read the mission brief at some point before they arrived.

He had a new science officer (though in his head, he always added a silent 'acting' before the title). Marlena Moreau was a talented chemist, and charming too. Once upon a time, Kirk might have flirted outrageously with her, but as it was she was guilty of the unforgivable crime of not being Spock, so Kirk could barely bring himself to tolerate her on his bridge.

The evening before they were due to arrive at whichever planet they were headed to found Kirk on the observation deck, staring listlessly out at the vast expanse of the galaxy.

He heard the door open behind him, but didn't turn around. He didn't need to; he'd recognize Gaila's walk anywhere. She moved to stand beside him and pressed a cup of something hot into his hand.

"It's a type of Orion tea," she said. "Took me forever to program it into the replicators, so pretend you like it."

Kirk inhaled deeply. It smelt interesting; spicy, but entirely different to the Vulcan flavors he was used to. He took a sip; it wasn't bad. He offered Gaila a grateful smile, and she slipped her arm around his waist.

"You know, it's weird," he said, for no real reason but to fill the silence. "It looks like you're looking out of a window, but you're not. If it was a window we wouldn't be able to see anything. It's actually doing something fancy to show us what we would be seeing if we were traveling sub-light. Spock explained it to me once, but…well, I forget…"

Gaila squeezed his arm in sympathy. "So what're we looking at?"

"That's Romulus over there," Kirk pointed to one of the brightest stars in their field of view. "Can't help wondering if that's where he is." He frowned. "Or maybe that's Romulus," he said, pointing to a different star. "I can't tell; the angle's all wrong…"

"That's Orion," Gaila said, pointing. "I sometimes wonder if my sisters are still there, and if they blame me for running away… Foolish, really, since I'll never know…"

Lacking anything else to say, Kirk said, "I thought Orion was in the other direction?"

"Probably. It's hard to tell when they keep moving, so I usually pick one at random." Kirk laughed and dropped his head onto her shoulder. "You will find him, you know," she added, her voice serious now.

"How do you know?"

She shrugged, her shoulder jabbing painfully into his cheek. "I don't. Just seems like what I'm supposed to say."

Kirk gave a rueful laugh. Then, as he remembered, he said, "Hey, I'm sorry I accused you of hitting on him. You should've told me I was being a jerk."

"Just then, or every time?"

Kirk elbowed her in the ribs, and she snickered. "Anyway," she added, sobering, "it's kind of lucky you did. The only reason I didn't hook up with one of those guys on Iliev was because I was trying to prove a point."

"Oh," said Kirk, wondering if he should pretend he noticed.

"If I had, I might not have got the message that Spock was gone, and then…" she trailed off, and then, in a brighter voice, finished with, "and then we wouldn't have Orion tea in our replicators, and _that_ would suck."

"Bones'll be thrilled," Kirk agreed, taking a sip. "He hates the coffee."

"There you go," said Gaila, squeezing his shoulder. "Priorities."

*

"Dropping out of warp," Sulu announced, sounding as enthused as Kirk felt, which is to say not at all.

"Assume standard orbit," Kirk replied.

It was a science mission, he'd established, one of the boring ones involving rocks. He'd assigned Moreau to lead the away team; there was no need for him to go with them. He was just about resolved to order Moreau down to the planet when Uhura spoke up. "Captain – a message is coming through on the Starfleet channel. The Vulcan Science Academy… something stolen… they're being very vague…"

Kirk blanched. He knew exactly what could have been stolen from the colony, dangerous enough to report even though they wouldn't come out and say what it was…

"Red matter," he said in a weak voice.

Uhura, still concentrating on the message, looked startled. "What?"

"Red matter. They're developing it on the colony. Oh, _fuck_ …" Kirk kicked at his chair, furious with himself. Without stopping to explain himself, he left the bridge, returning a few minutes later with the PADD he'd taken from Spock's quarters. He was greeted by a lot of blank stares.

"Um…" Sulu's eyes darted uncertainly around the bridge. "You want to fill us in?" he ventured.

"Set a course for the Hobus star," Kirk ordered.

"Hobus?" Chekov turned around to him with a frown. "The Hobus star is in Romulan space. Why –"

"Because," said Kirk with a dramatic gesture towards the viewscreen, "that's the star that went supernova, destroyed Romulus and sent Nero on a genocidal rampage into our Universe."

"Okay." Sulu's eyes narrowed. "But that was, what, over a hundred years from now?"

"Yes," Kirk agreed. "But something's wrong. Something's different. I don't know what – maybe it's to do with red matter being developed earlier here… Spock was convinced the supernova that destroyed Romulus was no natural phenomenon, and I don't care if it's not supposed to happen for another century – if there's even a _chance_ it's happening soon…" he trailed off and threw his hands up to make his point. "Here," he thrust Spock's PADD into Sulu's hands. "You did Astro, right?"

Sulu nodded, and started flicking through Spock's notes. There were endless calculations of supernova energies, and at the bottom of one page of notes was something that had made no sense to Kirk until this moment: the note 'RED MATTER,' in stark capital letters.

Sulu and Chekov cursed under their breaths, almost in unison. Sulu looked up at Kirk, panic evident on his face, and his voice was flat as he surmised, "Spock worked out how to create a supernova with red matter."

"And you want us to go into Romulan space and stop it," said Uhura incredulously from behind them.

"I shouldn't make this decision," Kirk realized aloud. "This isn't just everyday dangerous, it's insane…"

"Would you like me to call Mr. Scott and Doctor McCoy to the bridge?" Uhura suggested.

Kirk gestured for her to go ahead, and they waited in tense silence until the turbolift doors slid open to reveal an obviously confused Scotty and McCoy.

"What's wrong now?" said Scotty, eyes darting around the grave faces on the bridge.

Kirk hurriedly explained the situation to them, as best he could with the limited understanding he had himself.

"This is suicide," McCoy roared when he was done. "You want us to go waltzing into Romulan space, for what, a hunch?"

"It's a hunch that could save an entire planet," Kirk pointed out.

"And what's it to us?" McCoy continued. "Why not just alert the necessaries and wash our hands of it?"

"Because Spock saw it as his responsibility," said Kirk. "He told me that not long after we left Earth. And since he's not here…"

"We should go in his place," Uhura concluded. "I'm on board."

Kirk turned around to Sulu and Chekov. "I'm in," Sulu grinned.

Chekov looked a little more nervous, but he nodded nonetheless. Kirk looked then to the science station. "Look," he said to Moreau, "I know you –"

"You don't know anything," she snapped. "Mr. Spock was my commanding officer, and if he thought it was worth doing then I'm sure as hell not getting in the way."

"Okay," Kirk grinned, suddenly revising his estimation of his new science officer.

Finally, he turned to Scotty and McCoy; the two most senior crewmembers on board, he couldn't do this without their support. McCoy, predictably, was scowling.

"I think this is a damn fool plan," he said. "And when we get blown to smithereens, I want my tombstone to have a great big 'I told you so,' you hear?"

"Thanks, Bones," said Kirk, turning last to Scotty, who looked thoroughly bemused.

"So let me get this straight," Scotty mused. "There's a huge probability that we're going to be blown to kingdom come, and a slim chance we might save a planet in the process."

"Pretty much," Kirk agreed.

"Right, then," Scotty clapped his hands. "What're we waiting for?"

*

The light years seemed to creep past at an interminable rate, even at the highest warp factor Scotty could wring from the engines. The whole way, Sulu and Chekov pored over Spock's notes.

"This is incredible," said Sulu when they were done. "But it's so obvious, when you think about it…"

"What is?" said Kirk, though he wasn't really sure he wanted to understand.

"The way Vulcan collapsed… all at once like that… the black hole at the center – the Schwarzschild radius would have to be the size of the planet –"

"Or at least the core," Chekov cut in.

"Right, but even then it would have to be, what, a few hundred solar masses?"

"And the gravitational readings," Chekov added excitedly. "They changed too."

They both stared at the PADD, their eyes getting steadily wider. Kirk waited until he could stand it no more, then snapped, "So? What does that mean?"

"It means," said Chekov, "red matter is not just collapsing things into a black hole. It _creates_ matter. So much mass, so compact, that it creates a singularity…"

"I still don't get how this is possible," Sulu said. "But somehow, it must release vast amounts of energy, more energy that you can imagine, and then convert that to mass –"

"I don't care about the physics," Kirk interrupted him. "What does it _mean_?"

It was Chekov who answered, and he looked more terrified than Kirk could ever remember seeing him. "Keptin, when a star of more than a hundred solar masses collapses, is not a supernova. It is a _hyper_ nova. It has enough energy to destroy everything within three _thousand_ light years."

The pronouncement was greeted by stunned silence from the entire bridge, but Kirk was silent for another reason. If some rebel Romulans were attacking their own territory with red matter, a Vulcan invention, then it was entirely possible that they needed a Vulcan to explain how it worked. Which meant there was every chance they were chasing the same ship now that they'd been chasing for weeks.

*

Chekov was convinced it was possible to enter Romulan space undetected; he insisted it was impossible to patrol a three-dimensional border, and they weren't entering from Federation space, so there were none of the automatic detectors that existed along the neutral zone.

All the same, Kirk was uneasy, and he knew the rest of the crew shared his anxiety, with the apparent exception of Sulu, who was gung-ho about the whole thing. Scotty was anxious for a different reason; they were pushing warp 9.2.

They were more than ten light years into Romulan space now, only minutes to go until they reached Hobus. Kirk's heart was racing as he gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. He was so tense that it was almost a relief when Moreau called out, "I'm picking up a ship," and he could spur himself into action.

"Divert all non-essential power to shields," he commanded. "Weapons on standby."

"Wait," said Moreau. "It's not Romulan, it's… Vulcan?" she looked up from the scanner, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Stonn?" Kirk suggested.

"No, sir. The ship is registered to the Vulcan colony."

"Captain," said Uhura. "We're being hailed…" Her brow creased as she listened to her earpiece, and then her face broke into a smile. "Ambassador Spock requests permission to come aboard."

Kirk felt as though his heart had stopped. The thought of seeing Spock again – even if this wasn't _his_ Spock… He couldn't even bring himself to speak, so he simply waved for Uhura to go ahead.

It took all of Kirk's discipline not to race down to the shuttle bay himself; he managed to force himself to remain on the bridge, but he paced back and forth, more agitated than he could ever remember being. McCoy followed his progress with his eyes, but passed no comment.

When the turbolift doors opened, it took all of Kirk's strength not to fling his arms around their unexpected visitor, but he held back. "Spock," he said with a broad grin. "Fancy seeing you out here."

The Ambassador did not return the warmth of his greeting. "Jim," he said, "it was foolish for you to come here."

Somewhat blindsided, Kirk didn't know how to respond. "Is that what you came to tell us?"

"You do not understand. I believe the Romulans may have acquired red matter."

"We know," said Kirk. "And we think we know what they want to do with it."

He explained as quickly as he could, but Spock Senior looked distinctly dubious. When Kirk had finished, Spock said, "Why would Romulans create a supernova that will destroy their own planet?"

"Don't know," Kirk admitted. "Why does anyone destroy anything? Maybe some political agenda, or maybe she doesn't realize it will destroy the planet. I mean, Hobus is a good few light years away from Romulus, right? They probably think it will make a regular-sized supernova, like trilithium, and how often do you hear of a supernova destroying a planet in a whole other system?" Kirk took a deep breath and looked away. "Oh, and, minor detail, she has the other Spock captive."

"That part, I was aware of," said Spock Senior, and for the first time he looked sympathetic. "If it is any comfort, I encountered this particular Romulan in my time and found her ambitious, yes, but not unnecessarily vindictive."

"She's going to blow up a star," said Kirk flatly. "She can't be that stable."

"We shall see," was all the elder Spock could say to that, which Kirk considered distinctly unhelpful. He had no chance to say so, though, because at that moment Moreau cried out, "Romulans on the scanners! Three Romulan Warbirds, dead ahead!"

And from there everything went crazy; Kirk sounded the red alert and the ship shuddered as it dropped suddenly out of warp. With the red light dousing the bridge in an ethereal glow, Kirk ordered Chekov to return fire while Uhura tried to hail their attackers.

The first impact shook the ship so violently that Sulu was thrown from his seat, but before McCoy could even get to him, Sulu was back at his station declaring that there was no material damage.

"Another ship," Moreau called. "Right behind us!"

"Target locked," Chekov responded almost immediately.

"Wait!" Moreau called. "Hold your fire!"

The whole bridge collectively held their breath. And then, from nowhere, a plasma torpedo fired right over them, disintegrating one of the enemy ships in front of them.

"They're not firing on us," Sulu exclaimed, "they're _covering_ us!"

"Uhura," said Kirk, "can you hail them?"

"I'm not getting anything," she called back. "The whole comms system seems to be out."

"So what do we do?" Kirk jumped up from his seat and started pacing the bridge. Out of the viewscreen, a second Warbird went up in flames, and the third jumped to warp.

Sulu looked back over his shoulder with a shrug. "The new ship's moving off in the direction we were headed," he said. "I guess we follow?"

"And trust that some Romulan ship has decided to escort us?" McCoy scoffed.

"They did just save our asses," Kirk pointed out.

He instinctively turned towards the science station for guidance, but Moreau looked as out of her depth as they all did. He turned instead to Spock Senior, who must surely have seen stranger things than this in his time, but before he could ask for advice, Uhura beckoned him over. He went cautiously, unnerved by her reluctance to just shout across the bridge as she normally would.

"Jim," she said, and that alone caused his stomach to tie up in knots; there were few circumstances in which she used his given name. "You remember I said I sometimes accidentally pick up transmissions, without meaning to?"

"Sure." Kirk sighed, deflated; so it was about Stonn, nothing to do with Spock at all. "What's up?"

"They're nearby."

" _Shit_ ," Kirk exclaimed, causing every head on the bridge to snap in their direction. Stonn; of course it was Stonn. That made _far_ more sense than a crazed Romulan destroying their own planet – though it didn't help explain why the Romulans had been after trilithium. "Scan for Vulcan ships," he called over to Moreau. "And Chekov, _hold your fire_. Uhura, is there any way we can warn that Romulan ship that the Vulcans may have red matter on board?"

"I'm working on it," she replied, "but I can't get anything…"

"I've got the ship," Moreau called over. "It's in polar orbit around the second planet in the system."

"Okay," said Kirk, coming to a decision at last. "Scotty, she within beaming distance?"

"Aye, but –"

"Then I'm beaming over there to retrieve the red matter."

There was an outcry of protest, and an insistence from Sulu that he be allowed to go too, but Kirk raised his hand to silence them all. "I'm going alone," he said. "Mr. Scott, she's all yours – whatever you do, do not allow _anyone_ to fire on that ship while it may have red matter on board, understood?"

Scotty stared at him in disbelief for a moment, before remembering himself and stammering, "Aye, sir."

"And Spock?" Kirk could manage only a thin smile; just to look at Spock made him feel as though his insides were being twisted. "Keep an eye on the kids, okay?"

Spock's smile only affected his eyes, but it was radiant. "This is a foolish plan," he said. "Worthy of the Jim Kirk I remember."

Kirk had to leave hurriedly, before his nerve could fail him. McCoy followed him to the transporter room, but said nothing. Kirk was grateful for his silent presence; it was one of his favorite things about McCoy that they didn't have to get into a painfully sentimental outpouring of emotion. McCoy just quietly helped him outfit himself with a communicator and phaser and mumbled something about not doing anything more stupid than usual. Kirk punched him in the arm, said, "Don't let Scotty break my girl," and then hopped onto the transporter pad and let the beam claim him.

He had no time to process what was going on aboard the Vulcan ship; by the time he had fully materialized, they were already at full alert. Kirk dropped and rolled across the floor, narrowly avoiding a round of phaser fire. Before he could regain his feet, he had already taken aim and shot two Vulcans, but then he felt another behind him, and a hand going for his shoulder, and he had to quickly whip around, elbowing his attacker in the stomach. The Vulcan's strength was greater than his, though, and he retaliated with a punch that threw Kirk against the opposite wall. While Kirk groped around for his phaser, the Vulcan raised his own weapon and aimed it directly at Kirk's head.

The oblivion Kirk expected never came; the Vulcan's face suddenly took on a surprised expression, and he slowly sank to the ground. And then, silhouetted in the doorway, phaser still aimed at the fallen Vulcan, was Spock.

At first, they just stared at each other, neither able to move or speak. Then Spock moved slowly towards him and held out his hand. Kirk remained there, slumped against the wall, staring at Spock's outstretched hand and struggling to breathe.

Slowly, he reached out, clasped Spock’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. They stood staring at each other; Kirk still couldn’t speak, feeling as though the air had been torn from his lungs.

It lasted only a moment, then their surroundings filtered back into Kirk’s consciousness. "Do you know where it is?" he asked, breathless. "The red matter?"

Spock jerked his head to indicate the direction and then, with evident reluctance, let go of Kirk's hand as they leapt once more into action. 

It was like regaining the use of a severed limb; they moved as one, covering each other with ease, disabling anyone who crossed their path with seemingly orchestrated coordination.

"You know why we are here, then?" said Spock as they ran.

"Hypernova," Kirk confirmed, pausing briefly to take out a Vulcan who was aiming a phaser at Spock. "Found your notes."

Spock grabbed his arm, pulling him aside just as a round of phaser fire shot past him. Kirk shot at their attacker, and Spock led them down another long corridor. At the end of the corridor, they came at last to the room where the red matter was being stored, a vast glass chamber in which the deadly substance was held in magnetic containment. Stonn was there, his back to them, loading a tiny drop of the red matter into a device aimed at the star. The moment they entered the room, Kirk and Spock fired at him, and he slumped to the ground.

It was too late; the red matter had already been released, and they could only stand there, watching helplessly as it fell towards the star.

"Okay, so what now?" Kirk turned desperately to Spock. "Is that drop enough to set it off?" 

"That one drop is enough to create at least two hundred solar masses," Spock confirmed. "It will create a black hole at the center of the star. Not large enough to consume it all, but enough to cause the star to collapse, releasing jets of extremely high-energy gamma rays, enough to wipe out any life within three thousand light years. He has created a hypernova."

"How long do we have?"

"Such events are so rare – and an artificially induced one may have different properties even to those which have been observed…"

"How long?" Kirk repeated.

"I should have known," Spock continued, seemingly oblivious to him. "Even the most powerful supernova could not have had such destructive effects – no trilithium bomb could have done this."

"The Romulans," Kirk remembered suddenly. "The trilithium?"

Spock shook his head. "There is no Romulan faction trying to destroy their own planet. They knew, as we did, that the supernova Nero described could not have been natural; they were trying to understand how it could happen and how it could be prevented. They enlisted the Maians' help out of desperation, as a species known for remarkably rapid technical innovation."

"So it was the Vulcans all along," Kirk concluded flatly.

Spock made a sound of exasperation, so uncharacteristic that it made Kirk jump. "Revenge is illogical," Spock fumed, staring out at the star. "Yet I should have known – what else has enough destructive power but a hypernova? And only red matter could produce such an event in such a low-mass star…"

"Spock," Kirk grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. "This isn't helping anyone. No one knew – no one but Stonn – you can't blame –"

"This _is_ my fault," Spock insisted. "My other self – he described a supernova, not –"

"Spock!" With his free hand, Kirk grasped Spock's shoulder and shook him fiercely. Spock went very still, and then, gradually, his eyes regained their focus, fixing intently on Kirk with heat that sent a shiver down his spine.

Before he could stop himself, Kirk was leaning in and claiming Spock's lips. Hesitant, to begin with, as though this was the first time. Yet in that moment, it was as though the intervening weeks had not occurred; the taste of him was achingly familiar, the feel of his lips and tongue so natural. By the time he pulled away, his head was spinning and his heart racing so fast he couldn't catch his breath.

"Dammit, Spock," he gasped. "We're getting out of this, you hear? So answer the question: how long do we have, and what do we do?"

"We have perhaps twenty minutes until the process is irreversible," Spock replied, gratifyingly breathless. "The only option is to fire all of the red matter into the star, so that it is entirely consumed in a black hole and the gamma rays cannot escape."

"All right, then." Kirk squeezed Spock's shoulder. "Is this stuff safe to beam?"

"It is."

"Okay, so we beam it into the star."

"The transporter cannot reach into the star," said Spock. "The magnetic fields are too high."

"All right, so the thing Stonn used?"

"Will only do a drop at a time; we need to deposit it all at once."

With a heavy sigh, Kirk raked a hand through his hair. "Okay, so we have to drive the whole lot in."

Spock moved to the ship's navigational controls to set the autopilot, but even from where he was standing Kirk could see that the console was fried.

"Is it fixable?" Kirk asked.

"Negative."

“Okay, so we beam it back to the _Enterprise_. Scotty, the other Spock – between us, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He caught a flash of confusion in Spock’s eyes at the mention of his other self, but he didn’t ask. Kirk flipped open his communicator and called, “Mr. Scott? Two to beam back.”

When Kirk materialized in the transporter room of the _Enterprise_ with Spock, Scotty’s reaction was almost comical. He grinned so broadly it seemed it might split his entire face open, and began jumping up and down, clapping his hands.

The jubilation was short-lived, however. When Kirk explained the situation, Scotty just stared dumbly at the red matter, shaking his head.

“Ye want to dump all o’ this into the star?” he repeated. “Well, I could fix up a pod, but gettin’ it right into the center...”

“The aim has to be precise,” said Spock. “Can we equip a shuttle?”

Scotty shook his head. “No autopilot,” he explained.

Kirk cursed under his breath. “Do whatever you have to do,” he said. “I’m going to see if Uhura can get us a line to the Romulans.”

The reaction to Spock’s presence on the bridge was somewhat more muted; everyone looked up when they appeared, and went very still, but no one could say a word.

“We couldn’t stop it,” Kirk said without preamble. “Stonn fired –“

“We saw,” said Spock Senior gravely.

“So you have surmised his purpose?” said the younger Spock.

“I have.” Obviously catching the cold derision in his younger counterpart’s tone, he added, “I should have realized that only a hypernova...”

“I do not understand how you could have made such an error.”

The older Spock glanced away, suddenly looking every one of his hundred and sixty-odd years. “I fear,” he said, “that my powers of deduction are not what they once were.” He said this with the briefest flicker of his eyes in Kirk’s direction, and Kirk felt his stomach twist in knots. He knew perfectly well what had been missing from this Spock’s life in his later years.

McCoy suddenly threw up his hands and said, “Well, I don’t have the faintest idea what’s going on here, but it doesn’t sound like a picnic. What are we going to do?”

“We’ve got the red matter,” said Kirk. He explained the situation and the plan as best he could, and saw Sulu and Chekov’s eyes go wide when they realized the implications of what had happened.

He was cut off mid-flow by the sound of the intercom. "Captain!" Scotty's voice called urgently.

“Scotty,” Kirk replied. “Have you figured it out?”

“No Cap’n. It’s the red matter, it's gone!"

"What? How?"

"I looked away for only a moment, I swear –"

Kirk cut off the connection and turned to Spock. "The Romulans – could they have beamed it off?"

Spock took out a Romulan communicator, and Kirk had to clamp down on an irrational and entirely unhelpful feeling of jealousy. It was ridiculous to resent the fact that Spock had ended up working for his captors; it was, after all, much better than the fate he had feared.

Before Spock could even establish a connection, another call came through from Scotty. "Captain – there's a shuttlecraft missing!"

Kirk could almost feel his heart stutter to a halt. He caught Spock's eye across the bridge and saw his own dawning horror reflected back at him. With heavy heart and great reluctance, he tore his gaze away and scanned the bridge. He already knew who would be missing.

"Damn you, Spock," he yelled. "You're a stubborn, self-righteous ass sometimes, you know that?"

His Spock held his gaze a moment longer, and then turned towards the viewscreen, where the shuttlecraft piloted by his older counterpart had just come into view.

"Uhura," Kirk called across the bridge, "can you get me a connection to that shuttlecraft?"

"Working on it," she called back. "And… connected."

"Spock!" Kirk yelled into the intercom. "You turn that thing around this instant!"

It took a moment for the reply to come through, and when it did, it was crackly, distorted by extreme magnetic fields. "This is the only way, Jim. You know that."

"No," Kirk cried, desperately. "I don't accept that."

"Jim –" the connection crackled and faltered – "an honor. Live long and prosper."

"No!" Kirk cried as the connection died. He looked in desperation at Uhura; her hands were flying across the controls, but she could not re-establish the connection.

Kirk spun on his heel and stared helplessly out of the viewscreen as the shuttle was lost against the light of the star. Moments later, there was a blinding flash of light as jets shot out from the star. Spock and McCoy were on either side of him, catching him between them as he fell to his knees, crying out in agony. When he looked again, where once there had been a star, now was only a void of blackness.

*

Kirk lasted until they were safely back in Federation space, escorted by their unlikely allies, before he left the bridge. In the privacy of his quarters, he fell into Spock's arms, shaking with grief, though unable to shed a tear. Spock held him fiercely tight, saying nothing, until at last the shaking subsided and he was able to breathe again. Then, in a soft murmur against his ear, Spock said, "It was the fate he wanted. He was prepared for it, back in his own universe."

"I know," Kirk choked, the words catching in his throat. "I know it's fitting that he did here what he couldn't do there – I know all of that. Don't expect me to be logical about this."

With one finger, Spock tiled Kirk's chin up. Though Kirk's vision was blurred by unshed tears, he recognized the smile that lit up Spock's eyes. 

“Your shirt is intact," Spock observed.

Kirk gave a rueful laugh. "Yeah. You want to do something about it?"

Spock toyed with the hem, looking as though he might be considering ripping it clean off, but then he lifted it off with exaggerated care and folded it upon the desk. When he turned back to Kirk, his eyes raked over him with unmistakable hunger. He pulled Kirk towards him and Kirk barely heard the murmured, "I was grieved to be parted from you."

"Oh God," Kirk sighed against his shoulder. "You have no idea how much I missed you." He pulled Spock towards him, kissing him with a combination of desperation, passion and grief.

The rest of their clothes were discarded with considerably less care as they stumbled blindly in the direction of the bed. It was strange; he was so elated to be with Spock again, yet wracked with guilt and grief. He let out a sob even as he bucked into Spock’s touch, felt overwhelming grief while simultaneously delighting in the heat of Spock’s body against his.

There were hands, lips and tongues everywhere, Spock’s fluttering over his back, caressing his face, and Kirk’s seeking out every part of Spock’s skin he could find. They ended up entwined, Spock on his back and Kirk astride him, with Spock opening Kirk up with long, lubricated fingers. Kirk kissed him desperately, aching for more, to be closer. He groped blindly for Spock’s free hand and held it up to his face; Spock must have sensed the request, because he joined them immediately.

It felt nothing like the other times; it was like slamming into a wall, a torrent crashing into him that he couldn’t separate into discrete feelings. It hurt, but Kirk couldn’t get enough; he needed that connection now, to know that Spock was here and wouldn’t be taken away again.

He felt Spock’s cock press against him and slip inside, and could have wept with relief. He rode him slowly at first, focusing on everything Spock felt through the meld, then picked up the pace, needing to block out all but this one feeling. Beneath him, Spock lifted his hips to meet him, driving deep into him, over and over again.

Kirk would never again doubt that Vulcans felt more keenly than humans; Spock's head was a maelstrom, his passion thundering with such intensity that Kirk could hardly stand it. Spock's free hand groped for his, entwining their fingers, and a strangled sound escaped Spock's throat. Kirk leaned forward, and they kissed clumsily, sharing heavy, panting breaths and moaning into each other's mouths.

Through the rush of sensation resounding in his head, Kirk perceived the single word, _Jim_. And with that, it all came crashing over him in a torrent of searing heat, and he felt Spock shudder beneath him as they reached the peak together, their minds still linked.

Kirk collapsed atop Spock, gasping for breath, his skin slick with sweat. He could still feel Spock's presence in his head, their thoughts so tangled together that Kirk couldn't discern which originated from whom. Then, from nowhere, a memory that felt different; lying entwined like this, but in a much larger bed. Kirk could see himself, much older than he was now, looking sated and happy.

Kirk didn't have to wonder where that memory came from, but he sensed Spock's surprise; of course, it was the first glimpse Spock had had of that other universe. As the memory faded, Spock thought, _He's still here_.

Kirk couldn't decide whether that was a blessing or a curse. Sensing his ambivalence, Spock just held him close, his thoughts subsiding to a comforting background hum in Kirk's head. Kirk buried his face in the crook of Spock's neck, inhaling his scent and silently trembling. He felt Spock shift them to a more comfortable position, and they lay entwined until at last sleep claimed them.

*

The memorial service back on the Vulcan colony was brief, but well attended. There were few who knew Spock's real identity, but even in the short time he had been known to this community he had become revered for his efforts in rebuilding of their society.

There were recriminations too, for the Vulcans who had sought vengeance, and the society that had failed them enough to drive them to that point. The outcome was a Vulcan colony that more readily accepted the limitations of its self-reliance; by the time the _Enterprise_ arrived there, Sarek had already persuaded the others, finally, to accept the assistance of Betazoid healers. Spock Senior would no doubt have been pleased with the repercussions of his sacrifice, though it did little to cheer Kirk.

Gaila, too, was distraught, though her grief was for the rebel Vulcans. Whatever madness they'd ultimately been driven to, they had still rescued her from the wreckage of the Farragut, and she couldn't bring herself to hate them. She spent most of their time on the colony with the lone Vulcan who had deserted Stonn, and if she emerged looking a little less subdued then Kirk decided not to notice.

Kirk's only comfort – and it was, admittedly, a significant comfort – was Spock's constant presence by his side. Occasionally, Spock would even clasp his hand, apparently oblivious to the scandalized looks that earned them. McCoy, too, remained close by, his supportive silence, in its own way, achieving the same end as Spock's hand which gripped Kirk's so tightly.

They were preparing to leave when Kirk caught sight of the glint of a wheelchair against the sand. Kirk, Spock and McCoy waited while Pike approached them. His chair was pushed by a stern-looking woman that Kirk initially assumed to be Vulcan, until her rounded eyebrows and ears came into clearer view. He realized then that this must be the mysterious woman he had only ever heard referred to as 'Number One,' and it took great effort to reign in his curiosity.

"Admiral," Kirk greeted him as he drew near.

Number One left them alone, and Kirk couldn't help but notice the way Pike's eyes followed her. "I'm glad I caught you," Pike said when once he'd visibly wrenched his attention back to them. "There's been lots of talk about you boys back at Command…"

Kirk cringed inwardly. "Look, sir, I didn't lie, not as such – I really did intend to do the stupid rock thing –"

Pike cut him off with a dismissive wave. "I'm sure you did," he said. "And, well, you're aware we can't go around actively _rewarding_ captains who take their ships off into Romulan space against orders –"

"Of course, sir," Kirk mumbled.

"- but on the whole, Command feels your first year hasn't been quite as disastrous as it might have been."

"Very kind of you, sir," said Kirk with a wry smile.

"So," Pike heaved a sigh with the weary air of one who knows they're going to have reason to regret their generosity, "how about being let off the leash a little?"

"Ah," Kirk exchanged a conspiratorial look with Spock. "So you do admit you've been keeping us on a leash, then?"

"Only as much as any new crew," Pike insisted. "But if you think you can handle another four years, in deep space proper this time…"

Kirk gave McCoy a nudge. "See, Bones? Just what you always wanted."

McCoy gave an exaggerated scowl. "You shouldn't encourage him," he grouched. "He's enough of a handful as it is."

"I don't doubt it," Pike grinned. "But I'm sure Mr. Spock's up to the task of keeping him in line."

"I fear," said Spock, "that even the combined wills of myself and the Doctor are no match for Captain Kirk."

"Well," said Pike, "you have another four years to make something of him."

As Pike made to leave, he hesitated, and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, and Jim?" he added. "Number One was my first officer. I hope you have as much success with yours."

Lost for words, Kirk watched him rejoin his former second in command. He wondered if that was Pike's way of acknowledging that which, while not expressly forbidden, was certainly frowned upon. He felt Spock's hand brush against his, and their eyes met. The intensity of Spock's gaze still set Kirk's nerves alight. He surreptitiously reached for Spock's hand, running two fingers lightly over his and delighting in the way Spock's breath hitched.

The sound of McCoy clearing his throat pulled them violently back to the present. "You may have the Admiral's blessing," McCoy grumbled, "but that doesn't mean the rest of us need to see that."

*

Kirk sat back in his chair, legs crossed. The viewscreen displayed the blue curve of the planet beneath them; and above, an endless vista of stars that was theirs to explore. "So," he said. "Everyone ready?"

"All clear on Engineering," Scotty announced.

To his left, McCoy grumbled something about the foolishness of space travel, as was expected of him. To his right, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, though perhaps a shade closer to him than was strictly proper, Spock retorted that McCoy belonged in the brutal, bone-hacking surgeries of centuries past rather than on a starship.

Kirk leaned his head back, a grin spreading across his face. "You two are obviously ready. Sulu? Chekov?"

There was no response; Kirk looked over, and realized that the helmsman and navigator were carrying out a private conversation in hushed tones. Kirk cleared his throat; they stopped talking and looked over slowly, with identical guilty expressions.

"Anything you'd like to share with the class?" Kirk suggested.

"No, Keptin," said Chekov hurriedly, his face flushing red.

"Actually," said Sulu, ignoring a swift kick from Chekov, "could we ask you something?"

"Sure?" Kirk shrugged.

"Did you get married, down on the colony?" 

Kirk froze, then gave a nervous laugh. "What do you mean?"

"You and Spock," said Sulu, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Did you?"

Kirk found himself nervously running his hand through his hair and avoiding looking at Spock as he stumbled through a protest of, "Of course not. That's – most ridiculous thing I've ever –" He broke himself off when he felt Spock's hand on his arm and finished with, "No, Lieutenant, nothing like that."

"Okay," Sulu said with evident relief. "We were just a bit pissed we hadn't been invited, that's all."

Kirk had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. He looked up at Spock, and was surprised by the hint of amusement in his eyes. Kirk swallowed nervously. “Actually…”

"I suggest," said Spock, "that the lieutenant ensures there is an event to which he may be invited by devoting his attention to keeping the captain alive, which appears to be a full-time occupation for everyone on board this ship."

Kirk gave him a scowl for that, but then his stomach did a distinct flip-flop as he realized what Spock had said. “If we get through this five-year mission…?”

Spock nodded, and a definite hint of a smile softened his face. Kirk grinned. Fighting back the urge to leap up and do something thoroughly unprofessional, he turned a glare upon Sulu and said, "Are you saying we suck at discretion that much?"

McCoy indicated his opinion of that with an incredulous snort, and it was Chekov who replied, "Were we not supposed to know?"

Feeling decidedly flustered, Kirk looked around the bridge. Uhura was biting back a smile and McCoy was shaking his head and muttering to himself. Scotty was grinning inanely.

"Come on, Scotty," Kirk pleaded with him. "This has to be news to you, at least. Right?"

"Are ye kiddin'? I saw the way the old guy looked at ye back on that ice-covered hellhole. You," he added, pointing at Spock, "turn into a romantic sap in yer old age."

Spock's eyebrow shot up at that. "I do not believe that insulting the first officer on the bridge is appropriate conduct for the chief engineer," he said in mock indignation.

Kirk just stared at him, suddenly overcome by the urge to kiss him right there on the bridge in front of all their senior crew. Had it been anyone but Spock, he would have gone for it; as it was, he entertained the image in his head for a moment, then discreetly clasped his hand. Spock's eyes softened in response, and Kirk had to look away.

"You guys," he addressed the bridge at large. "All gossip way too much."

"Duly noted," said Sulu. "So, where we headed?"

Kirk leaned back in his chair, idly twining his fingers around Spock's. "Hmm. What do you think of that star over there?" He pointed in a random direction.

"Aye, sir."

Kirk squeezed Spock's hand, caught McCoy rolling his eyes, and embarked upon the second year of his captaincy.


End file.
